Stumbling
by TK Catsby
Summary: Chrom isn't used to feeling this way; certainly not for another guy. Chrom/MaleMC drabbles-character exploration, fluff, angst, and more. Rated M for future chapters.
1. Worry

**Well, hey there, guys and girls.**

**I don't write a lot of fanfiction these days... but ohmygod I'm obsessed with Fire Emblem and Awakening turned out to be even better then I'd expected.**

**ChromxMaleMC drives me crazy. So anyway, I got some inspiration and decided to write some drabbles!  
**

**I hope ya'll enjoy. This story will basically be a collection of ChromxMaleMC drabbles. My MC's name is Cat (because I always name my characters in games Cat, and it just doesn't feel right to use any other name), and his personality... well, I'll be developing it over the course of the series. This might develop a definite plot later (might also throw in some other pairings-I dunno yet), but for now, it's just whatever I feel inspired to write.**

**This first one is very rambly and doesn't really go anywhere. I was kind of just figuring out their characters. (The next one will have lots more plot and drama, I promise.)**

**Enjoy!**

**Note: I don't own Fire Emblem. If I did, there would be like a million animes and Ephraim would be in like all them because he's like such a boss and stuff.**

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Chrom lets out a soft sigh as he swings down from his horse, brow drawn together into a dark line; an expression that can easily be read as _worry_. It's not a look he often lets others catch on his face. He's the leader, after all, the one in charge, so of course he won't let his men catch him looking so concerned about something, because then _they'll_ worry as well—those of them who don't already—and he can't have _that, _not under his watch. No, he needs his soldiers relaxed so that they can react at a moment's notice; calm so that they can stick together, rather than scatter during a fight. So it's only now, as he quietly dismounts his horse in the dead of night, that he allows himself to look worried.

And worried is something he has every reason to be. Really, how can he not worry, when there's a band of risen twice the size of their army lurking a mere ten miles north? Just over the next ridge, really… Or, they will be, at the rate they're moving. By the time morning rolls around…

_I have to mobilize the men… _Calmly, collectedly; Chrom will put on that confident front he wears so well, because there's not much else he can do, at this point. They have to advance northwards, and if that means they have to take out that band of risen, then take out that band of risen they will. It'll be risky, no question there, but… Chrom swallows and absently strokes his mare's nose as he leads her towards the stables.

"Where, exactly, have you been?"

He's stopped by a voice, soft, but demanding, coming from the shadows over to his left. Chrom pauses, eyes widening a bit, and peers into the darkness cast by a nearby tent. That voice… He winces a bit, but quickly scrubs the worried look from his face. "Cat," he greets, smiling faintly, and though it's partially forced, he can't deny the strange, genuine, _happy _feeling that comes over him, just hearing the other's voice. Even if, from the sound of it, _he's_ not too happy.

The tactician is silent for a moment, unmoving, as if waiting for an answer. Chrom offers none, though, so after a moment of stillness, the raven sighs and steps forward into the light of a nearby torch. He has his arms crossed over his chest, his weight settled on one leg—his right; it's a stance Chrom knows well, and he braces himself for a lecture as his mare paws at the ground. "Before you say anything…" The lord holds up a hand to silence the other before he can begin, and then gestures down at his body, vaguely. "… You should note the fact that I'm perfectly fine." _As usual. _Well, aside from the still-healing gash on his right arm that he hadn't wanted to bother the healers with, and the blackish bruise coloring his collar bone from where he'd taken the blunt end of an axe in battle… But really, those injuries are superficial…

Cat, of course, is having none of it. His scowl deepens a bit, dark eyes narrowing with a mixture of irritation and worry. "That's not the point, Chrom," he mutters, "The point is that you _could _have been injured. What were you thinking, riding off alone at night without anyone to watch your back?"

Chrom rolls his eyes, only the slightest bit. "I was thinking," he says, in a quiet voice, "That it would be good to know what lies in wait on the road ahead of us."

Cat grits his teeth. "That's what we have _scouts _for. I was going to send Inigo and Gaius out first thing in the morning, when there was actually enough _light _to _see." _And here, he looks more than a little frustrated, exhaling through his nose and looking off, to the side. "You _know _I take care of these things; there's no need for you to go off on these midnight patrols…"

The way Cat's voice falls a bit makes Chrom frown, deeply, and glare at the other with furrowed brows. "This isn't a question of my faith in your abilities, Cat," he says, because _no_, of course he doesn't think something like that… Cat's led them this far, after all, and aside from… aside from Emm, they haven't lost a single soul yet, so Chrom knows, he _knows, _he just…

The lord looks away, exhaling, a bit frustratedly. "I just… wanted to _do _something. We were all tired after that last battle, but I had a bad feeling. I didn't want to worry you with it, though, so I just decided to check it out myself. A leader has to act on his instincts now and then, right?" He looks at the tactician again, as if searching for some sort of confirmation. He hadn't been wrong to go. Quite the opposite, actually; now they knew what they'd have to face the next day. Risen… Another battle…

Cat seems dissatisfied with Chrom's stumbling answer. He's silent for a moment longer, but then just sighs, heavily, and this time, it's his turn to roll his eyes. "Fine," he says, "Fine. Whatever. It doesn't matter; I'm just glad you're back safe." And he is; he really is glad that Chrom is safe, and it goes beyond the fact that the other is their leader, the one who holds them all together… Beyond that, he's… Cat swallows, gaze softening just the slightest bit as he gazes at the other. He unfolds his arms and lets them hang at his sides, heavy, fingers curled loosely though they itch to do something, _anything… _

Chrom is tired; Cat can see it in his stance, the way the hollows beneath the lord's blue eyes are dark with shadows that aren't cast by the flickering torch. In addition, there's the ghost of a line creasing the lord's forehead; his worried look from moments before hadn't gone unnoticed. The tactician doubts that he looks much better, himself, but that doesn't matter; he hates seeing Chrom like this, exhausted, and used, and trying so hard to put up a confident front. He shouldn't have to… No, that's what Cat is there for; he just wants to take some of that worry away, if only a bit, even if it means taking it upon himself.

They're both desperate not to break and desperate to hold the other together, and it must be laughable, really, how Cat always scolds Chrom for being too reckless while he himself hardly watches his health.

For a while longer, the silence stretches between them, and then Cat moves forward and gently takes the reins from Chrom's hand. "Go on to bed," he says, avoiding the lord's gaze, which he's sure is disapproving, "I'll get her squared away, so just go to sleep, already. We can't have our fearless leader falling asleep on his feet, after all." And here, there is perhaps the faintest ghost of a smile, in his voice, if nothing else.

Chrom does, indeed, frown, disapprovingly, but gives in with a small nod, because he knows that arguing with Cat can be likened to arguing with a brick wall. The slight, raven-haired boy was always right, after all. As he makes his way back to his tent, though, he realizes, a bit belatedly, that the tactician had no doubt stayed up to wait for his return, so really, shouldn't he be just as tired? And is Cat's sleep not just as important as his own? Chrom pauses, glaring back into the darkness that he'd left the other in, and then, after a long moment, he quietly makes his way back to the stables.

Cat is just exiting the large, canvas tent when he arrives. At first, he doesn't notice the other, and Chrom feels an odd sense of triumph, because now _he's_ the one seeing _Cat_ with a worried face and not the other way around. Though he thinks the other's expression is more exhausted than anything else… Chrom gets a hollow feeling in his stomach when he sees the tactician stumble a bit. He moves forwards without thinking, darting out of the shadows to steady the other, one hand wrapping securely around Cat's upper arm.

The tactician freezes and gives him a startled look, to which Chrom just furrows his brow a bit. "And you were telling me not to fall asleep on my feet…" he scolds, lightly, but then pauses, blinking at the odd look the other is giving him.

Cat has regained his balance, but is highly aware of how Chrom's hand is still warm around his arm. He swallows and averts his eyes, ears burning just a bit; at the scolding, of course. "I'm heading to my tent right now…" he says, voice trailing off lamely, insecurely. It's odd, because Chrom has suddenly forgotten what he came back for in the first place.

He swallows as well and releases the other. "Ah… Right." He takes an awkward step back. Right… "I'll just… be on my way, then… Get some sleep, and I will, as well…"

But when he gets back to his tent, Chrom finds that he's suddenly wide awake.

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**Yeah, I know like nothing happened, and it's really portentous and vague... I'm just going to post these in the order I write them in; the next one will be better, I promise you. In the meantime, uh...**

**Thanks for reading! Please R & R. It makes me write more. Also, if you have any interesting prompts, send them my way and I'd be happy to take a stab at them.**


	2. Perfect

**Hey guys, look, another chapter. Part one of at least two; I dunno how long this arc will draw out yet, but it's basically the 'confession' arc.**

**Enjoy!**

**Note: I don't own Fire Emblem. Otherwise, males would be able to marry each other in Awakening.**

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Cat has perfect skin, Chrom realizes suddenly, as they advance together towards a bulky brigand. Their swords flash in unison, arcing towards their target sharply, expertly. The man is no pushover either, though, and Cat grimaces as his blade is knocked away, throwing him off balance. Chrom shouts something and twists his weapon to shoot upwards, through the man's stomach, but the axe-wielder is surprisingly fast, and manages to dodge so that the sword only glances off his right side. Chrom swears and pulls back, upon an order from Cat. Side-by-side, they stumble back out of the brigand's reach, panting, swords raised, to regroup.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chrom watches as a bead of sweat trickles down the side of Cat's face, trailing along his jaw and then hanging on, persistently, to his chin. He has perfect skin, he thinks, and a face far too pretty for his own good.

Of course, he notices this absently, thoughtlessly, as they face their enemy on the battlefield; they are fleeting thoughts in the back of his mind, but nonetheless, they're there. Really, he'd noticed the other's fine features long ago—as a sort of dim worry, perhaps, when they'd first met and he hadn't known how capable Cat was of defending himself—but he'd never really thought anything of them until now. Now. Why now, when they are locked in combat with an alarmingly skilled bandit? Perhaps it's the juxtaposition of the raven to the hulking vulture.

The man lets out a feral, throaty laugh, and lunges forward with a swing of his axe. Chrom catches the blow with Falchion, and of course, he divine blade stops it, though he feels the reverberation all the way up in his skull. Cat comes to his aid in an instant, twirling his blade around and pulling out an Elfire tome in one practiced motion. His voice echoes with the power of the ancient language as he reads, and then fire erupts across the brigand's torso; Chrom can feel the heat from where he is braced against the other.

The bandit screams and staggers back, burning from his belly button to his shoulders. He bats at the flames, but these sorts always were weak to magic.

While he's distracted, Chrom orients himself, blade flashing, and then thrusts forward, sword piercing their enemy's heart with a sick, wet noise. He waits for the weapon to heat up, until it's hot in his palm, and then pulls back so that the bandit crumples to the ground, still burning. And that's it, for this battle, he realizes; he glances back and sees that Henry and Tharja are taking down the rest of the brigand's men. Turning to Cat, he allows himself a tired sort of smile, only to stop short as he sees the other faltering, sword and tome both slipping from his hands.

It's then that he sees the blood.

_Oh no, oh no, oh no…_

Chrom rushes forwards without really thinking about it, moves without telling himself to move. Dropping Falchion and not even caring, he catches Cat as the tactician's knees buckle beneath him. "Lissa!" His sister is nearby—Chrom see's her head swivel around from where she's standing with Lon'qu—but still, it takes her a moment to rush over to them. During this time that is far too long, Chrom lowers Cat to the ground, holding the other's head in his lap.

"Hey," he says, leaning over the rapidly paling tactician, "Hey, hey…" He hates it, how his voice is waving, but he can't help it, can't, because Cat is…

Chrom swallows, taking a half second to assess the injury; a large gash, stretching across the other's flat stomach, red, and bleeding rapidly. Chrom, already panicked, feels his heart thud uncomfortably in his chest. This is bad. Oh, this is really bad; he can't tell how deep the wound is, but it's no doubt that the axe was poisoned, and Cat's eyelids are already fluttering, helplessly. "Hey," Chrom says again, a little more forcefully than before, and taps the raven's cheek, "Stay awake. You hear me? Stay with me, Cat. You're going to be fine…" _You have to be fine…_

And then Lissa is at Cat's side, staff held above his stomach, glowing, glowing, and Chrom is hardly aware of it, but a small crowd is forming around them, concerned faces gazing downwards. Lon'qu is, of course, at Lissa's side, but Sully and Stahl are there, too, Lucina, eyes flickering worriedly between Cat's still form and Chrom's strained face. She can't remember ever seeing her father so panicked, so filled with unfiltered despair. She doesn't entirely understand it, because this isn't the first time Cat has been wounded in battle, and Chrom has never lost his composure like this before.

The lord is aware of this, but he can't help it; the way his breath seizes in this throat, the way his eyes burn with worry. He cradles Cat's head in his lap, leaning over the other, one hand pressed against the perfect skin of his cheek, the other fisted lightly in the collar of his cloak. "You'll be fine, Cat," he repeats, even though it's obvious that the tactician has already slipped into unconsciousness, "You'll be fine…"

And he will be fine, Lissa tells him later, as he sits against one wall of the healer's tent, watching, the even rise and fall of Cat's chest. Disoriented, probably. Weak, no doubt. But fine… Chrom just nods to her, silent, and waits patiently for her and Maribelle to file out of the tent so that they can be alone. Lissa stares at him for a moment longer, but Chrom does not so much as meet her gaze, and then, finally, she leaves.

Maribelle follows soon after, and when everyone else is gone, Chrom stands and walks over to sit silently beside Cat. For a long moment, he doesn't know what to do with himself, and he finds that he just stares, shamelessly and unaware, at the other's relaxed features. Cat's lips are parted, and if he listens hard enough, Chrom can hear the faint whistle of his breathing. In and out, in and out; rise and fall, rise and fall. Chrom gazes at those lips for a moment, and then glances down at the thick bandage wrapped around Cat's bare torso. It's summer, and Cat's fever is already breaking, so the healers have left him uncovered, save for his trousers. Cat's skin is pale, and the white bandages clash with it, unpleasantly.

Chrom swallows. He hates this. He wants to disappear into the floor, because this is _all his fault._

Really, he can't remember when or how Cat had gotten hit, but he's convinced that it was while they were going after the bandit leader; when Chrom was distracted, staggering back after his strike had missed. He's convinced himself of this, because otherwise, it was beforehand, and Cat had ignored it just to make sure he didn't fight alone…

_Stupid, stupid… _Letting him get hurt like this…

Chrom is suddenly aware of why he'd noticed those things, back on the battlefield. Why not only his perfect skin had been running through his mind, but why he was just stuck thinking about Cat, Cat, Cat, day and night, and _good gods, _it had been _weeks _now. Swallowing, Chrom rubs the back of his neck, bowing his head a bit. _I'm such a fool. _

To think it'd taken something like this to make him realize how much Cat meant to him.

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**Thanks so much for reading. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. **

**Please review; it'll encourage me to write more. Also, remember to drop any prompt suggestions in a review or something!**


	3. Difficult

**Hey look, guys, I got a review! Now there's a new chapter.**

**... You see the correlation yet?**

**Anyway, thanks to anonymous for my first review. Means a lot to get a review within a day of publishing! To me, anyway... **

**Anyway, this one kind of builds off the last one. The 'confession' arc continues. This is also very much based off of the S-rank conversation you get between Chrom and FemMC (because I totally didn't just play through with a female protagonist pretending she was male, pfft, no, what are you talking about).**

**A note; So I should mention that this might not line up with each other... Like I went with this idea for the 'confession' scene, but if I think of another fun 'confession' scene to write later, I'll write it and post it, cause it's fun, and they're drabbles; not like an actual story. So don't get upset if the chapters aren't consecutive and perhaps contradict each other.**

**Anyway... Enjoy.**

**Note: I don't own Fire Emblem, otherwise, HectorEliwood would be sooooo canon.**

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He's not sure when it happened, but at some indefinable point in their journey together, Chrom fell for the other, hard. Really, it might've been the day that they met. Chrom can still remember how sharp, and piercing, and undeniably beautiful those black eyes were when they finally fluttered open to land on him, still remember the unexplainable feeling of relief that washed over him when he helped the other to his feet and heard those five simple words; _"I'm fine. Thank you, Chrom."_

_Chrom, Chrom, Chrom. _

He still loves hearing it—his name—when it comes from the other's mouth.

Indeed, lately, he has been far to fascinated with those pale, pink lips.

It's not right, Chrom knows. Aside from the fact that they're both… men… What would people think? The prince and his lead tactician, in a relationship? It's just… not right. Chrom can hear Frederick's voice now, scolding him, because no, no, after this is all over, he's supposed to marry some respectable, high-born lady… And he has to, doesn't he? He's _fated _to, because otherwise, how could Lucina exist?

_Unless her mother was… will be… only a tryst. Or… _Chrom swallows. His breathing is hard, as he lunges time and time again at his imaginary foe, sword dancing in and out of weak points, blocking blows that he cannot see. Training like this has always been something that eases and clears his mind. He can think better, somehow, when his body is occupied. He's able to look at things objectively, rather than fidgeting uncomfortably, as he always does when this particular subject comes to mind. This particular subject… _Cat._

_Or… It's an arranged marriage, and _Cat _is the romantic tryst._

His face colors a bit at his own thoughts, and Chrom falters, missing a step in his usually perfect footwork. Ah… He stumbles, but manages to catch himself. "Dammit," he swears, panting. Why does this have to be so complicated? Why does he have to get so… worked up over this? He doesn't understand it, why he feels this way. Well, really, he _understands _it just perfectly. The reasons are obvious enough; Cat is gorgeous, to begin with, and aside from that, he's an expert tactician, a fighter, a good friend… What is there not to like? Chrom shakes his head, swinging his sword blindly, frustratedly. No, no, no; that doesn't answer the question. Why? Why him? Sumia, for example, also has rather nice features, and yet Chrom has never felt anything for her beyond a warm sort of friendship, so _why_…

Gritting his teeth, Chrom swears again and tosses his practice sword towards the ground, demanding, to no one in particular; "Aah, why him?!"

"Why who?"

The voice cuts through his thoughts like Falchion, clean through flesh. Chrom freezes, eyes flickering up from where he'd cast his weapon, and his stomach does this awkward sort of flip when he sees the very man he's been agonizing over. Cat stares incredulously at him from a few meters away, one eyebrow raised in a clearly confused—and perhaps a bit alarmed—expression, eyes flickering from Chrom, to the practice sword on the ground, and back again.

The lord flounders for a good ten seconds, completely caught off guard by the other's sudden appearance. "Ah… H-Hey, Cat," he greets, awkwardly, and forces a very nervous laugh, stooping to pick up his sword as nonchalantly as possible. He's hardly successful, and Cat's brow just furrows a bit, watching him.

"Hey, Chrom," he mimics, flatly, and then he repeats his earlier question, much to Chrom's dismay; "Why who?"

The lord straightens and averts his eyes. "N-Nobody," he says, too quickly, and then shakes his head, "I mean… It's nothing… really. Don't mind me." A forced laugh; Chrom is uncomfortable, and he hates it, hates how he can't so much as even look at the other without feeling butterflies take off in his stomach. The fact that he's… realized his feelings really isn't helping, because he still doesn't know what to _do _with them, and he can't stop wondering, wondering what Cat's doing here, and how he feels, and what he would say if he knew, what he would say if Chrom was to close the space between them and… The lord coughs, covering his mouth with one hand, and can only hope his face isn't as red as it feels. He wishes, suddenly, that he was the type who got all flushed and sweaty from even the slightest bit of exercise, because then he'd have an excuse…

"A-Anyway, did you need something?" he asks after a moment, walking towards and past the other without so much as looking at him.

Cat tracks him with his eyes, dark and analytical, and even if Chrom doesn't meet them, he can _feel _them, burning into his skull. He tries to ignore the sensation for now, though, placing the practice sword on one of the racks set up near their training pit. He just wants this exchange to be done with… He wants Cat to leave him alone so that he can sort himself out, because right now, he's just a mess of emotions.

The tactician finally speaks after what seems like minutes, but was surely only seconds; "Actually, I was wondering if we could go over some strategies for out next battle. Gaius brought back some new information the other day, and we need to plan accordingly…"

Chrom presses his lips together. Wait… No, no, this isn't good. He can't hang around that long, and he just knows he won't be able to stay focused on something like battle strategies right now. Turning back to Cat, but still not meeting the tactician's eyes, he fumbles for words. "Ah… I um… I actually just remembered that I had something I needed to do. Of course, I'd be happy to go over the strategies with you, but can it wait just a bit? I just need to do this one thing, and then we can…"

"Chrom."

"… go over all the strategies you like. Because of course, I know that's very important, I just… have to do this thing, and you really don't need to be there, and I…"

_"Chrom." _

The lord pauses, realizing, for the first time, that the other has been saying his name. Blue eyes finally flickering over to land on Cat's black, Chrom is unnerved by the expression he sees there; something between worry, confusion, and irritation, a sort of glum annoyance…

Now that he's gotten him quiet, Cat wastes no time in pushing forwards, asking the very question that's been on the tip of his tongue since he got here; "Why have you been avoiding me lately?"

Chrom's eyes widen a bit, and he seems to wince. Cat thinks that he suddenly looks a little younger and unsure of himself, like a teenager caught doing something bad, and the expression would've been funny if he wasn't so seriously… pissed, worried, upset… he doesn't know; all he knows is that Chrom's been avoiding him, and he doesn't like it. He just wants things to go back to the way they were…

"Ever since that incident with the bandit a week ago…" Cat continues, while Chrom is still searching for words. He rubs his stomach absently at the memory, feels the light ridge of scar tissue through the fabric of his shirt. "… Ever since I got hurt, you've been avoiding me." And it's a statement, not a question.

Chrom swallows. Suddenly, his mouth is a little dry.

"Do you dislike me now or something?"

_What? _The question, thin and wavering, hanging in the air between them, has Chrom reeling, confused and taken aback. Did he… dislike Cat? _Dislike_ _him? _Ha… The notion is almost enough to make him laugh out loud, and really, he thinks he would, if his stomach wasn't doing somersaults already. "D-Dislike you?" he manages after a moment, breathless, and not just from the shadow sparring, "Good gods, Cat, nothing could be further from the truth…"

He says this without thinking about it, lips forming the words of their own volition, and he doesn't realize what they mean until he sees a variety of emotions flash across Cat's face; surprise, at first, and then a sort of confusion, perhaps even suspicion. The tactician finally seems to lose his composure a bit, because while he didn't know _what _sort of answer he'd been expecting, _that _was certainly not it. There is an inkling then; Cat swallows, fingers curling into loose, nervous fists. "I don't follow you," he says, simply, because he doesn't understand what, exactly, Chrom is trying to tell him.

The lord's face is going through a frankly alarming spectrum of colors; the word _cute _comes to Cat's mind, unexpectedly, and then they're both looking away from each other, flustered and lost. "Ah…" Chrom exhales; the start of a sentence, though he loses his thought seconds later. He swallows and tries again, speaking slowly, trying to shift into that cool, confident leader persona he's so famous for. "That is… I…"

He feels as if he's having an out of body experience, heady and unsure of himself, and yet… at the same time, he suddenly comes to a resolution, because… because he knows he can't just ignore this any longer, and in the end, does it really matter what other people think, or say or do? Whatever happens will… happen, and Chrom can't deny this, he can't…

Because honesty is something he values; honesty to himself, just as much.

"I… have something to tell you."

Cat is silent, waiting, watching as Chrom shifts from foot to foot and refuses to meet his gaze. When the lord doesn't go on for a moment, he prompts the other; "… Then… out with it, already…"

Chrom holds up a hand, automatically, and brings the other up to press against his flushed cheeks. "H-Hold on," he mutters, "Just… Just give me a second." He has to get his act together; he doesn't want to have any regrets. This has to be done right… Swallowing thickly, Chrom slowly slides his eyes over to land on Cat's again, brow drawn together. Despite his nervousness, though, he's able to keep them there, rather than look away again. "It's… It's just… kind of difficult…" Because… It's _Cat, _and what if… What if…

_Ah. _Chrom is struck with a sense of doubt, then; a sense of fear that rolls uncomfortably in his stomach. He can feel it growing, writhing, because oh gods, what if he's the only one? _No, no… _He grits his teeth, is dimly aware of the fact that now he's _doubting himself, _and that was always the thing Cat got angriest at him about, because he can't afford to…

Taking a breath, Chrom suddenly spins to face the other fully. It's then that he feels the words rising in his throat. He makes a conscious effort not to check himself, and then…

"I'm in love with you, Cat."

And then it is oddly quiet, and Chrom's six words hang awkwardly between them, heavy, and shuddering, and Chrom can only stand there, red-faced, fighting to stay composed while his heart threatens to break out of his ribcage. He just said that... Ah, he can't believe that he just said that... _Idiot. Fool. Without any sort of explanation... _The silence stretches on for too long, the stillness becoming far too absolute. Chrom feels something heavy settle in the pit of his stomach, and his eyes flicker searching across the tactician's features, looking for anything, any sort of response.

It is a long time before Cat's able to fully process what Chrom has just said to him. His dark eyes are wide, his pale lips parted in such a look of surprise, such a look of disbelief… Chrom can't remember ever seeing him _this _taken aback, and there's something thrilling about that; about seeing some part of Cat he's sure no one else has ever seen. He likes that he's Cat's first, even if… even if this silence without an answer is persisting for far too long…

Finally, the lord speaks up; "… Cat?"

And that's when the tactician starts a bit, as if remembering where he is and what he's doing here. His mouth opens and closes, a few times, and then Chrom sees the most beautiful shade of red blossom across his cheeks. Ah… That sort of thing. That's the sort of thing he wants to see, before anyone else. He wants that sort of expression to be reserved for _him, _and him alone…

Chrom is just beginning to feel a sense of elation—because making a face like that, _surely _Cat is—when finally, the tactician breaks eye contact, looking away and bringing both arms up to hug himself, in such an awkward, insecure gesture… "Chrom…" he starts, and the lord can feel his stomach dropping before he even goes on; the tone alone is enough, so when Cat does finish, it's simply a twist of the sword in his gut.

"Chrom… I'm sorry."

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**Oh my god, did Chrom just get rejected? **

**... Yeah, I don't know how that happened, either (but come on guys, it's a love story-you know it ain't gonna last).**

**Anyway, thanks for reading! Please leave a review!**


	4. Dream

**Hello! So... I stayed up all night writing Awakening fanfiction... and then immediately started writing when I woke up. I can't remember the last time I got so into a fanfiction, guys; this is really exciting. **

**That aside, thanks so much for the wonderful reviews! It really means a lot to me. I might start doing that thing where I respond to people's reviews in the author's notes... I haven't decided yet, but if I get more, probably.**

**For now, though. I just want to post this. I don't know when this got so Chrom-centric (like seriously, there's like no Cat in this chapter). I might try to switch limited third person narrators now ant then... But anyway, this one builds directly off the last two (third in the 'confession' arc).**

**Enjoy!**

**Note: A I've said, I don't own Fire Emblem, because if I did, there'd have been light magic and Wyvern Knights in Awakening. Also, things are becoming a bit more mature; I don't think so, but this chapter might border on NSFW.**

* * *

_"Chrom… I'm sorry."_

The lighting in the lord's tent is dim, cast by a single oil lantern sitting atop a wooden desk. The lantern sputters weakly, running low, but Chrom, at the moment, is far too preoccupied to bother refilling it. The summer air is heavy—stagnant, somehow—and Chrom is okay with this; indeed, it almost feels as if time is rolling to a halt, and _that _is something that the lord has no qualms with. Dim and heavy, hot, and moving slowly…

The one thing that the air is not, though, is silent.

_Chrom, Chrom, Chrom. _

He can't get enough of it; that voice.

Chrom is kneeling, straddling slim, white hips, back arched over a body that is not much smaller than his own, but somehow infinitely more fascinating. He's not entirely sure how they ended up in his position, him and Cat, but at the moment, he really can't bring himself to care. All he can focus on is the rolling heat in his stomach and the sight of the other beneath him, flushed, and breathless, and naked, save for the thin, cotton undergarment that clings a little too closely to his skin.

Cat says something, brow drawn together, but this time, it's not a look of irritation, or worry. No, it's something else, and it makes Chrom want to give in to these foreign urges welling up inside him, ravish the other silly, and it doesn't even matter, doesn't even matter that he doesn't know what he's doing… Cat's body is like a foreign land, and Chrom wants to explore it, chart the uncharted, discover each dip, and arc, and find out what, exactly, that look is asking of him…

He begins with the other's stomach gazing down and tracing the thick, red scar stretching across his abdomen. It's not the only scar that mars Cat's body, but it is the freshest, and Chrom is fixated on it, because he can remember exactly where it came from and exactly what it means. Cat squirms a bit beneath him as his fingers brush over the ridge; Chrom glances upwards, but only see's his mouth moving. He can't make out the words; he can only hear the hitch of breath as his hands move upwards, sliding up the other's ribcage until his thumbs rest atop two pale, pink nipples.

Cat's back tenses a bit, and he brings a hand up to grip Chrom's left wrist, eyes flashing.

Why is it that Chrom can hear his _voice _but not his _words? _

There is nothing nonconsensual about this, he knows, because otherwise, Cat would be writhing, kicking out, and even as the most esteemed commander of the Shepherds, Chrom doubts that he would be able to hold him down easily. He's very dimly alarmed by this thought; that he would even consider holding the other down. Chrom swallows, thickly; he feels as if there is something very wrong here, even though Cat is still saying his name…

_Chrom, Chrom, Chrom._

"Chrom!"

And then he gasps, opening his eyes, and he knows, immediately, that it was a dream, because the lighting is not dim, and the air is not stagnant, wind blowing lightly against his tent so that the open door flaps a bit in the breeze. Chrom's eyes are wide for a moment, staring at the ceiling as he tries to get his bearings, return to reality. That… _That _was hardly… The lord swallows and feels his face heat up before he's so much as looked around the room.

Gods… He squeezes his eyes shut again and throws a forearm over his eyes. What is _wrong _with him?

He feels sick, and he's so _angry _at himself, because he just can't _believe _that he would dream something like that. And about… about a fellow soldier, no less.

_Because Cat is nothing more, has been nothing more for the past three weeks, and he has to accept that, accept the fact that things are broken now and all he can hope to do is seek the other's counsel in battle and otherwise, stay the hell away…_

The images just refuse to get out of his head, though, and Chrom lets out a frustrated groan, rolling over, a bit childishly, and pulling his pillow over his head.

"Uh… Chrom?"

And then there's that voice again, and Chrom realizes, quite suddenly, that he's not alone in the room. At first, he tenses, because _dear gods, what if it's Cat, _but then he swallows and ventures a peek from under the pillow. Ah… He relaxes just the slightest bit, though it's still rather embarrassing to be caught like this by _anyone, _and slowly sits up. "… Good morning, Stahl," he says, trying very hard to keep his voice level and force the pink from his cheeks. Giving the emerald cavalier vaguely perplexed look, he wonders why, exactly, it's _him _who's waking him up when it's usually…

_Cat._

Chrom stops, pressing his lips together slightly. Ah. Right, that was why. For the past three weeks, it had been _Cat's _turn to avoid _him_, and really, Chrom can't blame the tactician in the slightest. He still can't believe it, how stupid he was, coming on to the guy like a wyvern in heat, and to think he'd actually expected some sort of answer right then and there… Chrom frowns a bit, looking at the floor. _Idiot, idiot, idiot._

Stahl raises an eyebrow a bit at the lord's strangely neutral greeting. "Good morning," he returns, slowly, and then, "Cat asked me to come wake you up. He also said to tell you to stop sleeping so late and that we need to get moving as quickly as possible." He recites the message absently, and then ruffles the back of his perpetually disheveled hair. "Ah…" And Chrom can tell what he's going to say before the words pass his lips. "Are you alright, sir?"

Chrom forces himself to look at the cavalier and give a sort of detached smile. "… Alright?" He pushes the covers back, a bit tentatively, at first, and then gives a silent sigh of relief, because… well, at least he wasn't _too _worked up over that dream. He swallows and starts to climb to his feet.

Stahl watches him, a bit concernedly. Though he figures he probably ought to go, for some reason he… he's just _worried _about his commander. In fact, he's not the only one; Lissa and a few of Chrom's other close friends had noticed him acting strangely for a while now, but then, what was there for them to say? After a moment of awkward silence, Stahl does decide to venture just one question; "I'm… sorry, sir, but… You looked like you were dreaming. Have you been sleeping okay?" And it is in his nature to worry about his friends, but Stahl knows that he might be crossing some sort of boundary here.

Chrom tenses, eyes widening at the floor once again, and then Stahl catches a harsh blush on his face before the lord turns to hide it. He quickly walks over to a pile of clothes, folded neatly atop a wooden crate, and starts getting dressed. "Dreaming?" he echoes, a bit too quickly, and then forces a nervous laugh, "Ha. I'm fine, Stahl. You don't need to worry…"

Stahl is a bit peeved, because _really, _Chrom can be so _stubborn _about things sometimes, but… it really… isn't his place to push any further, is it? Shifting awkwardly from one foot to another, Stahl is silent for a long moment before giving a very reluctant nod. "If you say so," he murmurs, and then speaks up a bit, "Then, Cat says to be ready to move out within the hour. There's breakfast out in the commons, if you want it…" He trails off, wishing there was something more he could do, but they're just not close enough for him to break the other's shell yet.

Excusing himself and slipping out of the tent, Stahl tries to think of who he can ask to help with this problem.

* * *

**Thanks so much for reading! That probably answered the question of whether or not there'll be angst in the future... Yes, this is turning into quite the angsty arc. **

**Anyway, please drop a review! Please, please, please!**


	5. Advice

**More reviews! More drabbles! I'm enjoying this way too much.**

**This is part four in the 'confession' arc. I think there'll only one more chapter before I wrap up this whole section and the two of them are together (but the drabbles won't stop there, my friends, oh no, no, no).**

**Again, there's like no Cat in this chapter. This angsty rejection thing is dragging on a bit too long, but whatever (dun care-they're drabbles, even if they're contiguous). The next one will center around him, though, and hopefully I'll be able to flesh out his personality a little better (I'm really afraid that he's coming off as a Gary Stu, guys, like, ugh).**

**This one has lots of Chrom/Gaius bromance... Because seriously, for some reason, I can picture the two being really close, but not in a lover sort of way. Also, I like the idea of Gaius being the guy everyone comes to with their problems while he never understands why (forgive any OOCness).**

**Anyway, without further ado...**

**Enjoy!**

**Note: And remember that I don't own Fire Emblem, or Raven and Lucius would have their own series and it would be called 'Glorious Gay Adventures in Sexual Ambiguity'. **

* * *

For some reason, whenever Chrom has a problem, he finds himself going to Gaius for help. It's not that he knows the thief particularly well, or that he thinks he'll be able to help him better than someone else, it's just that they share a comfortable understanding that what passes between them stays between them, and Gaius is nothing if not good at keeping his mouth shut. Well, for the right amount of sugar, anyway. And surprisingly enough, the ginger has offered good advice more often than not, so as it is, when another few days pass and Cat has still said no more than ten words to him, Chrom finds himself standing awkwardly by a river bank, Gaius seated casually on stump beside him.

They don't look at each other, and Chrom is incredibly grateful that Gaius doesn't rush him, so that a lengthy but not entirely uncomfortable silence stretches between them. The lord kicks absently at some rocks with his boot, takes a breath, and then finally starts; "I just… I just want things to go back to the way they were."

Gaius gives him a narrow, thoughtful look, twirling a lollipop between his teeth. There's another moment of silence, expecting, and then the thief takes the candy out of his mouth. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific than that, Princey," he mutters, and Chrom doesn't even care about the nickname, because really, that's not what Gaius is here for.

Chrom lets out a sort of frustrated sigh, kicking a rock a little more forcefully into the bubbling water. He casts Gaius a sort of desperate look. "Listen. What would you do if you confessed to someone and got completely rejected?" The words slip out quickly, unfiltered, and Chrom's cheeks take on a pink hue that he tries, desperately, to erase.

Gaius just raises an eyebrow at him, a bit too surprised to really come up with a response. Well… _this _is certainly not what he'd expected to talk about… Normally, Chrom comes to him because he needs some shady item or another, or he's somehow ticked off one of the girls and needs Gaius to help him patch it up… Patching up a friendship is one thing, but Gaius has never seen Chrom so flustered. It makes him look younger, and it's honestly a little bit funny.

"I mean, it was stupid of me to come on so strongly, and I just… I don't even care about the rejection at this point." _Liar, _rings in his head, _Liar, liar, _because there's still a hollow feeling in his stomach he doesn't think can be filled. "Things need to go back to normal, though; I can't handle this…" Chrom runs a hand through his hair, the other hand tight around the hilt of Falchion, and looks out at the opposite bank.

Gaius raises an eyebrow at him, and then waves his lollipop vaguely, questioningly. "Wait a minute. Slow down. Let me get this straight…" He stands then, candy in his mouth, and slips his hands into the pockets of his dark clothing. "… Are you saying you wish you hadn't confessed? Or are you unhappy with the outcome? Because they're two very different things…"

Chrom gives him a confused, vaguely exasperated look. "What? I… I don't know," he stutters, because he really hasn't thought it over so much; all he knows is that he _misses _Cat, misses their easy conversations together and light banter, back and forth, and above even that, he misses being able to work together on the battlefield without doubting or feeling alone. Taking a breath, Chrom shrugs and continues, "Some of both… I guess?"

Gaius tilts his head to the side in thought. Of course, he can't deny the burning curiosity to know _who, _who it is that has their fearless leader tied up in knots like this. Oh, there are so many girls who would kill for this type of information, so many who have been lurking and admiring the prince from afar. Gaius is frankly dumbfounded, because he doesn't understand how Chrom hasn't _noticed. _"Well…" he begins, thoughtfully, "It depends. I guess if I really thought I loved that person, I wouldn't give up." It's a cheesy line, and Gaius shrugs, a bit uncomfortably. "On the other hand, Princey, you might be screwed. How well do you know this person?" He gives the other a serious look, wondering if he can worm a name out of him, one way or another.

The question makes Chrom hesitate, biting his lip, because really, how well _does _he know Cat? Well, enough to trust him completely, with his life, and perhaps even more… But then, there's that deep, dark chasm between them that is Cat's past, but even the tactician doesn't know what lies inside it, so perhaps… perhaps is it not as distancing as it seems. When it comes down to it, doesn't Chrom know almost as much as Cat does about himself? The thought makes the lord uncomfortable, but somehow a little elated at the same time. He likes it; he likes the idea of knowing more than anyone else, but he doesn't want this feeling to get out of control.

"… Pretty well," he ventures finally, and then shakes his head, "But I don't know. I just don't know. I was sure he…"

Gaius raises an eyebrow, cutting in, sharply; "He?"

And then there's an awkward, stomach-churning silence, and Chrom freezes, looking a bit like a deer caught in the headlights. Gods… He can't believe that he just slipped up like that… His mind is racing with a million doubts, a sort of sickening fear, because _that's not exactly something you talk about, _and he searches Gaius's face, desperately, for some indication that it doesn't bother him. "Um… That is… She?" He flounders, helplessly, but there's no way to patch up something like that, not when the thief so obviously heard.

Gaius's face is blank for a moment, and then his lips stretch into a wide, sort of shifty grin, eyes flashing with unconcealed amusement. He can't help it; he laughs, because Chrom's reaction is just _priceless. _"Relax, Princey," he manages, waving a hand dismissively, "I'm not one to judge." And he really isn't, even if he knows that some people are… more than a little uncomfortable with this sort of thing. It passes through his mind, suddenly, that Chrom will have it even worse than most, because _really, _he's the _prince… Tough luck, _he thinks, absently, but thankfully, he's just outside the circle that will really be affected by this.

Now, though… Now he _really _wants to know. "So who is it?" he asks, casually, wandering close to the stream and stooping to pick up a smooth, flat stone, "What lucky bastard has you wrapped around his finger?"

Chrom's face darkens to a crimson, and he fidgets, uncomfortably. He definitely feels a deep sense of relief, to have Gaius react this way, as if it's not a big deal, but he still… he still can't talk about it so easily, because it's just so _embarrassing _and the memory of that quiet, broken apology is still too fresh… Gaius, though… Gaius is in the safe zone, and he, at least, can know.

"… Cat," he mutters finally, in a small voice like that of a child. And really, he feels like a child; lost and confused, going through puberty all over again and trying to deal with a crush. Burying his face in one palm, and shaking his head, he lets out a frustrated sort of groan. "But I swear, Gaius, you can't tell anyone. You _can't. _Frederick will have my head on a platter… probably crowned, but on a platter nonetheless…" He trails off, unable to look up and meet the other's gaze, but waiting for some sort of response.

There is none, for an awkward moment, and when Chrom finally lifts his head to give the other a questioning look, he sees dumb shock written across Gaius's features. "Cat?" the thief finally echoes, when Chrom gives him a desperate, searching look, "_Cat _rejected you?"

Chrom bites his lip, eyes flashing darkly, painfully. Saying it to himself is one thing; hearing it from someone else feels like being stabbed all over again. He eventually nods and hangs his head again, not quite trusting himself to speak.

Gaius blinks and looks out at the water, taking the candy out of his mouth for a moment and licking his lips. "… Shit, Princey, I could've sworn he was into you," he says, apologetically, confusedly. He really doesn't get this. Chrom had liked Cat all along? And Cat had…

The words make Chrom's eyes widen for a moment, and then narrow again as he furrows his brow. Wait… What? No, no; that doesn't make any sense. Cat wasn't into him; he'd made that _quite _clear, so… "What makes you say that?" he asks the thief, softly, curiously, and, though he doesn't want to admit it to himself, perhaps a bit hopefully.

Gaius gives Chrom a sidelong glance, pursing his lips a bit, because he really doesn't want to get the lord's hopes up, if he's already had his heart broken, but… He shrugs, noncommittally. "I don't know," he says, "Just… the way he looks at you, follows you around." He scratches the back of his head, uncomfortably, because this is getting more than a little awkward, now that he knows what's really going on. _Sheesh, when did my life get so weird? _"Er… Or the way he used to, anyway," he corrects himself, and winces at the look that flashes over Chrom's face. Pressing on quickly, he gives a sort of empty laugh; "So you guys _did _fight. I thought so…"

Chrom gives him a confused look. He suddenly feels as if he's missing something that everyone else is aware of; a sort of elephant in the room, so to speak. "What? You thought…"

"Hey, I mean, you have to admit you've been acting like a kicked puppy for a while now," Gaius mutters, quickly, and looks away. "Everyone noticed; we've been trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with you, so… I guess this explains it…"

Chrom can feel his ears burning, and swallows thickly. Ah… He'd been… what? Acting like a kicked puppy? So had he really been that obvious? The lord fidgets and looks at the ground, a heavy feeling in his stomach, because _damn, _he can't believe he'd been acting so strangely and hadn't even noticed. _What sort of leader am I? _Getting so worked up over something like this… He hadn't meant to… "S-Sorry," is all he can manage, rubbing the back of his neck shamefully, uncomfortably. Under his skin, he's seething with anger at himself, because gods, he's just such an _idiot. _

Gaius looks at him and hates it, hates the way the lord looks so vulnerable and unsure of himself, because no, no, that's not how their leader should look at all… Scowling and scratching the back of his neck, one hand on his hip, Gaius lets out a slightly peeved sigh and shakes his head. "Princey… It's fine, really. No sweat off my back." _Can't believe you didn't notice, though… _How oblivious could someone be? Now it's Gaius's turn to fidget, because geez, this is just so… awkward. He's usually fine with Chrom coming to him for advice, but stuff like this is really outside his field of expertise… and he's getting fed up with it, the prince's desperation, because if it bothers him so much, then he needs to just…

_Ugh. _Gaius sighs again and suddenly bites down on the lollipop with a _crack. _"Just go talk to him about it, already," he says, somewhat exasperatedly, "Try to clear things up with him. You're just torturing yourself, leaving things like this…" He's not entirely sure if this is the right thing to say, and he really doesn't know Cat all that well, but…

_I don't think he dislikes you as much as you think, Princey._

Chrom looks at him as if he's grown another head, a vaguely alarmed light playing in his eyes at the mere _prospect _of broaching the subject with Cat once again. "But…" he starts, but Gaius silences him with a shake of his head.

"No 'buts'," the thief mutters, because he's so _done _with this, and Chrom needs to _man up, _"At the very least, apologize for freaking him out and let him know that you want to… ah, 'go back to the way things were', or whatever. Or don't, if that's not what you really want, but…" Crunching down on the lollipop and gesturing vaguely with the stick, he gives the other a flat, serious look.

"Either way, you need to talk to him."

* * *

**Grow some balls and go to your man, Chrom.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading. In case you hadn't guessed, I like Gaius a lot; I might write him his own story later, since there don't seem to really be any on here...**

**Next chapter will clear things up between them... probably.**

**Please, please, please review!**


	6. Deep

**Guys, I can't remember the last time I've written 10,000 words in two days. I don't think I've ever churned stuff out this fast, and I've done NaNoWriMo before, so that's saying a lot.**

**Alas, though, I must say that it won't continue into the week. I still intend to update as regularly as I can, but it'll probably slow down to one chapter every few days or so, since I've got school and stuff. Keep checking in, though, because who knows? I have easy classes, so I might be able to write a ton even with school.**

**Anyway, this is basically the fifth and last installment in the 'confession' arc. I didn't mean for "Stumbling" to have so much... plot... but this just kind of... wrote itself. That said, I do apologize for the damnably persistent angst. I intend to skip ahead in future chapters and write shorter, fluffier scenes (also, you'll probably get some real smut soon).**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

**Note: I don't own Fire Emblem, because if I did, Fuin no Tsurugi would've been released in the U.S.**

* * *

_"I'm in love with you, Cat."_

Three weeks. It's been three weeks and three days since Chrom confessed to him, and Cat still can't figure out how, exactly, that makes him feel. It's irritating, because he so rarely encounters a problem that he can't find an answer to—a puzzle that he can't solve—and yet ever since that day, he's been agonizing over the same question, day and night; _Why? _Why Chrom? Why _him? _He doesn't get it, doesn't understand why the lord came on to him like that when they were… they were hardly supposed to have those sorts of feelings for each other…

Cat presses his lips together into a thin line and stares at the ground as he gets ready for bed. It's late, the moon already high in the sky, but while his body aches with exhaustion, his mind is wide awake, racing with the same thoughts that have been plaguing him for weeks. Chrom is… in love with him. In love with him? The prospect still seems absurd, and Cat would think that the confession itself was only a dream, if the memory wasn't so vivid in his mind. When he'd heard those words, Cat had frozen, mind going blank with pure disbelief, and he hadn't been able to respond, hadn't been able to properly _think _about what he'd wanted to say. All that'd risen inside him was a sense of panic, the knowledge that no, no, they couldn't do this, not now, not while they were at war and had an army to lead…

Beneath that, though; beneath the carefully constructed tactician persona, Cat had felt something else, and in the weeks of awkward silence that'd followed, that feeling had only grown, rising slowly up to the surface until Cat could feel it, pressing against his skin.

Chrom is in love with him. Chrom is the prince—no, now _king—_of Ylisse. Chrom is the first person Cat saw upon waking up. In a way, Chrom is his first memory, and there are, of course, a multitude of emotions that come with something like that. Lissa had been there, too, of course, and Cat had developed a deep sense of protectiveness over the girl, but it just isn't the same; _Chrom _is the one who'd reached out to him. _Chrom _is the one who'd taken him under his wing, and Cat… Cat will be forever grateful for that, forever in Chrom's debt…

That alone isn't love; Cat knows this as well as anybody. What _might _be love, though, is the heady feeling he gets whenever the lord draws too close to him, or the irrational worry he feels whenever he's too far…

Swallowing, Cat pulls his belt off and changes into his bedclothes; a long, white shirt that hangs to just above his knees. Catching sight of himself in the small, square mirror propped against one wall of his tent, Cat pauses.

There isn't anything remarkable about him, he thinks. He is thin—perhaps a bit too thin for his own good—and boney, with fragile-looking wrists and pale skin that burns far before it tans. His face is average, in his opinion, though he's highly aware of the fact that his features look foreign, compared to Ylissian's, sharper… Chrom, on the other hand, certainly has it all; good looks, skill with a blade, charisma… and he's a _king _now, for goodness' sake… Cat can't hold a candle to someone like that, so why?

Of course, he knows that appearances aren't everything, and perhaps that's what frightens him most about all of this;

When it comes down to it, Cat is nothing. A nobody. He doesn't have a past, doesn't know anything about himself, aside from his own name, so what… what does Chrom see in him? There's something endlessly frightening about the prospect of entering into a relationship when you didn't even know who you were. Tearing his eyes away from the mirror, Cat swallows again.

He'd been making a conscious effort not to get close to anybody, because what would happen… what would happen if his memory came back?

Even after traveling with them for this long, laughing with them, bleeding with them… Cat isn't sure if he's a Shepherd at all, and Chrom is drawing far too close to that part of himself that he's never wanted people to see.

_You're in love with me? _he thinks, _You don't even know me._

Sighing and passing a hand over his eyes, Cat turns and starts to head over to his bedroll. He doesn't want to think about this, about _Chrom, _because when he does, he's just filled with the most confusing jumble of emotions, and he doesn't _get _it, doesn't want to deal with it when he should be focused on more important things, on leading the army that's come to rely on him…

But right as he's about to lie down, there's a voice from outside his tent; "… Are you awake, Cat?"

He recognizes it instantly, and his stomach flips, apprehensively. _Chrom. _For a moment, Cat doesn't respond, only glancing around the room, a bit awkwardly. Perhaps if he doesn't say anything, he thinks, the other will think that he's asleep and leave, and then this confrontation will be delayed, if nothing else. But they can't keep running, he knows. They can't, because they're expected to work together, expected to get along, and Cat _wants _to, he just…

"… I know you're awake, Cat."

The tactician bites his lip, but still doesn't move. Ah, Chrom and stubbornness… _Just go away… Please…_

"… I'm coming in."

And Cat doesn't have time to protest before the flap to his tent is pushed aside. Chrom's eyes are cast downwards when he first enters, and then, slowly, they trail upwards, at such a speed that Cat's left a little flustered. _Really, _it's not often that he has people in his tent when he's already dressed for bed, so he can't help the way his cheeks heat up. The lord's blush, mirroring his own, doesn't do anything to help.

Chrom hesitates for a moment, averting his eyes. "I, um… I can come back, I suppose…" he says, lamely, though he's not sure he'll have the guts to attempt this twice.

Cat just looks away as well, swallowing. "What do you want?" he asks, softly. The sentence is a little harsher than he means it to be, though, so he takes a breath and tries again; "… It's late. Do you need something?"

Chrom hates it, hates hearing that tone, from Cat and towards him. It's not that it's openly hostile, but it's so wary and uncomfortable, and Chrom just wants the other to act normal. Of course, he's not exactly living up to that expectation on his end… Chrom answers after a moment, after trying to get his thoughts in order, stepping just inside the tent so that the door and close behind him. "I just… wanted to apologize," he says.

"For what?"

The question catches Chrom off guard. He looks at Cat again, but the tactician is still stubbornly avoiding his gaze. "Just… For coming on to you like that," he manages after a moment, rubbing the back of his hair, "So suddenly…" This is difficult, but Chrom tries to shove his discomfort to the back of his mind. "I… I didn't mean for it to come out like that," he continues, rambling a bit, "I just…"

"I was the one who pushed you, Chrom," Cat interjects, in a small voice, "I pushed you for an explanation and you gave me one. There's nothing to apologize for…"

Chrom blinks at him, at the way he looks off to one side, eyes dark and brow drawn inwards just the slightest bit. He doesn't like it, the way Cat won't meet his gaze when he's standing here _trying so hard, _and beyond that, he doesn't like how neutral the tactician's tone is, how he seems able to speak so easily. Chrom shakes his head, frowning. "No, Cat, that's not… That doesn't matter, I still—"

"I've thought about what you said." Cat cuts him off suddenly, voice sharper than usual, laced with a sort of determination he only displays in battle. He bites his lip, hesitating for a just a moment, and his eyes flicker very briefly to and from Chrom's face. "I've thought about what you said," he repeats, "And I think… now I'm able to give you a proper answer."

The words hang heavily in the air for a moment. Chrom feels as if he's rooted to the ground, staring at the other and waiting, waiting. He isn't sure how much longer he can handle this, this uncertainty, and cryptic words like that aren't helping, because with Gaius's words running through his head and Cat's torn expression, he's not sure he'll be able to walk away from this like he'd planned. When the other doesn't continue, Chrom prompts him, gently; "… And what is that proper answer?"

Cat swallows again, dryly, and some sort of light flashes in his eyes, something that might be hopeful. Within seconds, though, those eyes are dark again. Cat speaks slowly, tentatively, "That it… wouldn't be right, for this army's commander and lead tactician to enter that sort of relationship…"

The words are so weak that Chrom suddenly feels an irrational sort of anger. He stares at the other. _That's _the reason? That's why… That's why Cat would push him away like this, because he's afraid of something like _appearances? _Chrom should be able to understand; he was worrying about the same thing only weeks ago, after all, but now that he's said his piece, he just can't. Cat knows how he feels, so he ought to give him something… something more genuine than that, because _gods, _Chrom doesn't _care. _

"Cat," he says, taking a step closer to the other, though he's not entirely sure what he intends to do, "Is that the only reason why?"

"Don't do this, Chrom," the tactician says, shaking his head as if to ward the other away, "Don't."

The lord's brow draws into an even tighter V, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He stops, though, checking himself, doubting. "Don't _what?" _he demands, "Don't lo—" He stops himself before he drops such a heavy line, because that's not what Cat needs to hear right now, not what he wants, but… Chrom exhales, frustratedly. "I just… I don't understand what you're telling me Cat. Is it so wrong for me to…" He trails off again, swallowing, but manages to finish later; "… for me to want to be with you?" And the lord is nothing, if not forward; all thoughts of trying to move on from this have left his head, because with how Cat is acting, Chrom just _knows. _

The tactician winces at the words, their honesty, because _dammit, _why does Chrom have to make things so difficult? "We're both _men, _Chrom," he reminds the other, sharply, "What would people think? Frederick? Lissa? Your _daughter?"_

The mention of Lucina makes Chrom cringe, because really, how can he respond to that without looking like a total _ass? _Her very existence goes against all of this, all of his feelings, and Chrom hates it, doesn't know what to do about it. He flounders. "I… I don't know," he manages, voice losing much of its drive, its determination. He casts his gaze to the ground for a moment, but then his fists tighten and he looks up again. "But I don't care," he says, resolvedly, "I don't care what they think, Cat I just…" He swallows. "I just know how I feel, and I don't want to run away any more…"

Cat's face takes on a pink hue at that, lips parting, eyes fluttering to and from Chrom, around the room. He can't deny the effect those words have on him; he knows this, and yet he just… He doesn't know, can't find the solution to this puzzle… "A-are we to sneak around in secret, then?" he mutters, without thinking, "Steal away to see each other so that the others don't find out?"

At that, the lord freezes, wide eyes staring at the other.

"Because really, that's just ridiculous," Cat continues, tugging uncomfortably at the sleeves of his nightshirt, "It'll never work, Chrom. Can't you see that?"

But Chrom is hardly paying attention to the other's words, anymore, instead trying to wrap his head around the realization, the real _meaning _behind what Cat is saying. For him to even suggest something like that. "Cat…" he speaks up, slowly, "You feel the same way, don't you?" And though hesitant, Chrom has decided to stop doubting himself.

The tactician stops short, and it's his turn to stare at the other, lips parted in realization of what he's just let slip. Sneaking around in secret… The fact that he would even suggest such a thing is proof enough that… "I… I don't know," Cat manages after a long moment, voice thin and wavering, "I don't…" He shakes his head and licks his lips, running a hand through his short, black hair. "I don't know Chrom; I just don't see how we can…"

He trails off, though, because Chrom is suddenly moving towards him, closing the space between them in only a few strides until… _Ah… _Whatever Cat had been about to say goes out the window as he feels Chrom's hands on his shoulders, sees him leaning in, and then they're so close that Cat has to close his eyes, and all he's aware of is the feeling of Chrom's lips pressing against his own.

It's not a deep kiss, or a particularly lengthy one. Chrom's mouth moves only the slightest bit against his own, and Cat is too shocked to respond, just standing there with his hands by his sides, chin tilted upwards just a bit to make up for the two or so inches Chrom has on him. When the lord pulls away, it takes him a moment to open his eyes, and then there's just black gazing into blue, wide, and glassy, and filled with far too many emotions for Cat to voice.

Silence. He wants silence, but for some reason, all he can hear is the thudding of his own heart against his ribcage.

Chrom's eyes flicker searchingly across his face, and Cat is highly aware of how his hands are still tight on his shoulders. The tactician swallows and fights the urge to lick his lips, though he's not sure why, and then, after a long moment, Chrom sighs and shifts to drop his forehead against Cat's collarbone. "Dammit," he says, in a strained voice, "I just can't…" He fumbles for words.

_I can't stop myself._

He doesn't have to say anything, though. Cat presses his lips together after a moment and slowly, slowly raises his hands. Chrom tenses a bit when he feels his hands on his back, but then seems to melt, and Cat can't help it, can't help the way his arms tighten around the other, how his fingers fist in the fabric of Chrom's shirt. No… Chrom doesn't have to say anything, because Cat understands perfectly.

And shit, he thinks, he's really in too deep now.

* * *

**Their relationship is really getting weird. But Cat will stop angsting so much soon enough, I promise (gods, what is wrong with you, strange OC of mine).**

**A couple shoutouts to reviewers...**

** Anonymous; Haha, I know right? I dunno, I think I got the idea from one of his support conversations with his son (Brady, in my case), where he's just like, 'When did my life get so weird?' to himself, and I was like, holy shit, Gaius is THAT GUY who has to deal with everyone's problems. I'm a Gaius, too, so I know how you feel. Anyway, yes, yes, they'll be together and happier soon, don't worry about that.**

** Cerul (Mind if I just call you Cerul?); Thanks for the consistent reviews! Ah yes, the angst is just flowing out of me for this fic... I really don't understand it; I intended this to be a lighter, fluffy piece, but now it's dark and angsty, and I guess I just can't write relationships that aren't riddled with problems anymore... Anyway, haha, I'll try to deliver, so keep checking back!**

**Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Ugh, now six chapters in two days? I'm going to sleep.**

**But please remember to review! Also, I seriously need some prompts, guys! I have some ideas in mind, but now that this arc is over, I'll be writing more short, pieces that are... well ****_actually _****drabbles.**


	7. Voice

**Oh my god, guys, so many wonderful reviews! I'm just floored by the positive response I'm getting to this fic; thank you all so much!**

**This chapter is rather short, but then, this is where we're to remember that this is, in essence, a collection of drabbles. Honestly, I hadn't expected to be able to update today, but I had a bit of time and I wrote this little... er, shall we call it a vignette? Pfft. So anyway, I decided to upload it for ya'll, since you're all wonderful and deserve a new chapter every hour. **

**This one is definitely NSFW (Not Safe For Work, for those of you who might not know what that means). I'm always very self-conscious about my smut, and that balance between sexiness and quality, so, uh... Yeah. Constructive criticism welcome? It takes place quite some time after the last arc.  
**

**Enjoy!**

***Note: And remember, boys and girls; ****_this _****is why I don't own Fire Emblem.**

* * *

"What are you doing?"

Hazy black eyes blink open to stare at the other, lashes fluttering above flushed cheeks. Cat has his wrist pressed against his lips, his other hand tight in the blankets beneath him, and it takes him a moment to process the other's question, brow drawn into a look of flustered confusion. "W-What?" he mutters, because he's not following at the moment. How _can _he be following, when Chrom is settled so neatly between his legs, breath ghosting across the underside of his cock?

"Your wrist," the lord clarifies, and it would be hilarious, how he's gone still, if Cat wasn't so damn _hard, _"What are you doing to it?"

The tactician gives him an incredulous look, exhaling heavily and shifting against him just the slightest bit. He has no idea what the lord is talking about, and frankly, he doesn't care, because _dammit, Chrom, if you would just continue, please…_ Despite his squirming, though, the king doesn't move, only staring at him a bit harder, a knowing light playing in his eyes. It's a good look on Cat, he thinks absently, this pleading expression. He's usually not one to tease, but the little red marks marring the skin of the other's wrist are bothering him, and it won't kill the other to learn to be patient.

When Chrom doesn't give him any more than a hot breath and a still hand, Cat frowns, deeply, but complies in inspecting the wrist he'd been thoughtlessly biting. It's a habit of his during sex, stifling his voice this way; something he's only dimly aware of. Frankly, it's surprising that Chrom has never noticed, because the white skin is already riddled with faint, pink indentations. Cat stares at the marks for a moment and then looks back at Chrom, swallowing, thickly. "Nothing," he says, breathily, but perhaps in a slightly guilty tone. Though he really doesn't care, he can tell Chrom disapproves.

The lord is silent for a moment longer, and _fuck, _Cat can't stop fidgeting, lips pressed together into a thin, strained line. Chrom's left hand is wrapped lightly around the base of his shaft, unmoving, and Cat can _feel_ those blue eyes on him, burning, and barely restrained. It's enough to drive him crazy, that tantalizing touch and that sharp, shameless gaze, and Cat lets out another frustrated breath, because _what, _does he have to _beg?_

And then Chrom's eyes flash as he finally moves his hand, pumping the other, languidly, in one fluid motion. "You shouldn't do that," he says, though his voice has softened into something more teasing, one corner of his lips curling upwards just a bit, "It feels better to let it out." He squeezes, as if for emphasis, and his stomach rolls at the way the tactician's breath hitches in response.

Cat has his wrist against his mouth again before he realizes what he's doing, and he glares at the other, weakly. Let it out? What, does he expect him to moan like some sort of wanton whore? Cat feels his stomach flutter uncomfortably, because _gods, _no, he's not about to just…

_Ah…_ When did Chrom learn to _smirk _so well? He wonders this dimly, somewhere in the back of his mind, and then blinks as the other shifts, pulling himself up to hover over him.

"Cat," Chrom says—no, practically _purrs_. He braces himself on one elbow, the other hand still sliding up and down the other's length, and then leans down so that his lips ghost across the raven's jawline. "Come on…" He's only shirtless at his point, and stubbornly trying to ignore the pressure building in his groin, because _really, _teasing the other like this is proving to be far too fun. They've never really taken their time before, he realizes, somewhat absently, and it's something he wants to fix, because who would be up this late, anyway, aside from the sentries on the outskirts of camp?

Cat shudders, back arching as the other thumbs the tip of his cock, and now that he's aware of it, he actually feels a little pain when he bites down on the back of his wrist. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tilts his head and bares his throat so that Chrom can latch on and suck.

"Let me hear your voice…"

The lord licks at the fresh bruise before pulling away again, this time sitting back on his knees so he can work at the button of his pants. "Please?" he adds, with a somewhat crooked smile. Cat watches him, a bit impatiently, and then swallows, mulling the other's request over somewhere in the back of his mind. His voice… Let Chrom hear his voice? He doesn't entirely understand it, because it's not like he can stay completely silent, anyway; not while they're doing something like this. He exhales, flusteredly, eyes flickering to and from the other's face, because gods, this is just so_ embarrassing..._ _Ah, Chrom… _Then the lord's leaning over him again, and he tentatively reaches both hands up to link loosely around his neck.

"… You're an ass," Cat murmurs, weakly, and then gasps as the other suddenly rocks against him, skin on skin.

Chrom's lips stretch into that smirk again, and he bends to nip lightly at Cat's lower lip. "Only for you," he answers, and then pushes his tongue past awaiting teeth.

* * *

**I know you all must think I'm such a tease for stopping there... I tried to write the rest-I really did-but it just wasn't happening. Which is weird, cause I usually have no problem writing all the way through... Ah, well. It just felt right to stop there.**

**Thanks for reading! Now to reply to some reviewers...**

** Cerul; Aah, every time I see your reviews, I get the stupidest grin on my face. Thanks so much for the support! Woah, waiting two months sounds like torture. Seriously, I went to pick up the game the day it came out, but there was a shipping error, so they didn't have any in stock. And what did ****_I _****do? Get it digitally, because no, no, I can't wait even three days. Anyway, to answer your question, no, as far as I know, Gaius doesn't call Chrom 'Princey' in the game. I just added it cause I liked how he calls Maribelle 'Twinkles' and he seems like the type to give everyone nicknames. And glad to hear that Cat's character is coming together well. Oh yes, I intend to explore the whole Lucina thing, but probably in a future arc, because I feel like it'll get lengthy.**

** Guest; Lon'qu as the gay guru? Ahaha, I can see why you'd say that. I dunno, though, for some reason, I ship him with either Lissa or Panne... Huh. Thanks for the suggestion, regardless.**

** Missiletaine; Oh my goodness, dear, thank you for all of the wonderful feedback! Glad to hear chapter four got to you a little bit, hehe. Hope this one delivered then? Also, must... get... beach DLC...**

** Wolfy; Ooh, I like that idea. I might very well go with it sometime in the near future. Thanks for the feedback!**

**Phew. Okay, so that was probably the longest author's note ever. Anyway, thanks again for reading and please, please, drop me a review!**


	8. Parting

**New chapter! I am so freaking sleepy, guys. But I stayed up to finish this because I love you all. **

**Okay, so this is the beginning of a new arc, based partially off of a prompt from a friend and partially off of a brilliant Hubba Tester result between Cat and Chrom (I find that thing makes for some hilarious prompts some time). It said that Chrom wants to hold hands and that Cat has separation anxiety, and I was just like, ohmygod, it's perfect.**

**This is probably the beginning of a new arc. I dunno, let's call it the 'separation' arc for now.**

**Anyway, the quality of this chapter kinda goes downhill in my opinion... Sorry! It's harder for me to write during the week, cause I'm just more tired in general, and thus, prone to zoning out in the middle of sentences and stuff.**

**Anyway, without further ado... Enjoy!**

***Note: I don't own Fire Emblem, because it'd probably turn into a pseudo-erotic yaoi visual novel if I did.**

* * *

There's a point at which they have to part ways.

"It won't take long," Cat tells him, sitting across from Chrom at their little wooden table. He's outlining battle strategies on a creased, yellow map, quill _scritch-scratching _away as his eyes never stray from the page. Chrom is supposed to be helping him; was, up until a few minutes ago when he'd suddenly noticed how glossy Cat's hair is. It matches the little jar of ink sitting to his left, he thinks, and it's such a fitting association; ink with Cat and Cat with ink. The tactician has always liked books, after all, and writing, though Chrom hasn't been able to sneak a peek at his journal just yet. As it is, he's settled with his elbow on the table and his cheek in his palm, blue eyes soft and thoughtful as he gazes at the other. Just… gazes.

"You'll take one half of the army and go northeast, through the forest," Cat continues, oblivious to the set of eyes on him, "And then swing around on the other side of the clearing so that we approach the enemy from both sides…"

He's always been one to get lost in his strategies, and Chrom smiles faintly without thinking about it, because he likes seeing the other in his element. It's another tidbit he can tuck away in the back of his mind; an understanding that _ah, this is where he fits best. _And Chrom wants nothing more at the moment than to understand the other, because Cat's such an enigma, even to himself, and the lord is desperate to fix that, one way or another. _You're you, _he wants to say, but he knows the other won't buy it, so he has to prove it somehow; show him _this. This is you. _

You. Cat. Chrom. He likes it, how their names come after each other so easily now; because they're an _item, _he thinks, and he feels a little juvenile, but really can't bring himself to care. He'll allow it here, he's decided, because you only ever have one first love.

"Chrom?"

The lord blinks a few times and raises both eyebrows, eyes focusing on the other. Ah. He'd hardly noticed that he'd zoned out… and he's sure that this is what happened, because Cat is giving him that tight-lipped disapproving look he's come to recognize so easily. Smiling, this time a bit apologetically, Chrom gives a light, questioning hum, to which Cat just frowns a little deeper, lips pursing into something close to a pout.

"You weren't listening, were you?" he accuses the other, voice bordering on hurt, and Chrom suddenly feels a little bad. Exhaling in a faint huff, Cat runs a hand through his hair and gestures vaguely with his quill. "This is important, Chrom," he reminds him, "It's been a while since we've had to split up the army. We'll have to be careful…" And here his voice trails off, eyes sliding off to one side, unreadable. It's a look that Chrom knows, though; Cat has something else to say, and Chrom will be damned if he lets it go unheard.

Blinking and straightening, folding both arms on the table so as to look just a bit more engaged, Chrom gives him a bright, inquisitive look. He keeps the smile on his face to lighten the mood, though he's not liking it, the way Cat's avoiding his gaze. "You're right, you're right," he admits, nodding and scratching the back of his hair, a bit sheepishly, "Sorry… But hey, it'll be fine, I'm sure. It's a large band of risen, yes, but nothing we haven't faced before." His smile widens a bit. "And with your expert guidance, I'm sure we'll all live to face many more of the like."

Chrom isn't aware of it at first, how he's slipped up, and Cat falters, gaze hardening slightly as he looks at the other. _Expert guidance… _He swallows and averts his eyes again, letting them drop to the table, where his fingers have gone a little white around his quill. Ha… "Expert guidance, indeed," he murmurs, a bit bitterly, though the anger is directed at himself, rather than at Chrom. No, to Chrom, he just gives a weary shake of his head, and suddenly, everything seems just a little bit heavier. "You shouldn't have such blind faith in me," he tells the other, warningly, "I've made plenty of mistakes in the past. Lost people…" Here he swallows again and bites his lip, but no, no, he doesn't need to go on. Doesn't need to…

Chrom can name her, after all, the lost one. The lord's expression drops considerably, brow drawing together, darkly, and an awkward moment passes in which neither of them can meet the other's gaze. "… Regardless," Chrom speaks up finally, slowly, "I trust your judgment." It might be the wrong thing to say, but it's true, and really, he doesn't know if there _is _a right answer here, so… Pressing his lips together, Chrom leans over to get a better look of the map.

"So we're to meet up here?" he asks, pointing at a spot marked with an ink black 'x'. His eyes flicker over the page for a moment, tracing the lines and reading the various notes written in Cat's slanted script. He can understand why the other is worried about this, really, because according to their scouts, this _is _a much larger band of risen than they're used to. They're outnumbered, almost doubly so, but Cat's explained that if they can attack from either side, they'll be able to trap the enemy between them and decrease the risk of casualties… As he reads, something dawns on Chrom, suddenly;

"… You say it'll take two days to ride around to the plains?" he asks, slowly, for clarification. He doesn't look away from the map, but the way he's gone strangely still makes Cat think he's caught on. The tactician is silent for a moment, just gazing at Chrom, but then nods, leaning a bit closer with his elbows on the table.

"Yes, that's what I was saying. Roughly..." he says, quietly, and scratches absently at a random spot on the map. He wants to go on, but suddenly feels as if his lips are sealed shut, so he just sits there and casts his gaze to the sheet between them.

It's been a week since that night in Cat's tent, and it's moments like this that make Cat realize just how much their relationship has changed. It's not that they weren't close before, or that Cat didn't perhaps feel something for the other… something, something, which he still doesn't understand, but now intends to accept… but now, they can look at each other and just _know. _It's unnerving, because all of a sudden, it's like some wall has broken, and Cat's ribcage has never felt so fragile.

_Dammit, _he thinks, blandly, _Look at what you've done to me._

Chrom is silent for a moment longer, and then speaks up, choosing his words carefully. "Well… Two days isn't too long," he murmurs.

Cat gives a noncommittal _hm _in response.

The reaction isn't exactly encouraging, but Chrom pushes onwards with a forced smile, "And it's sure to pass by quickly. You have the harder job, really, just waiting here while we ride…"

At that, the tactician just snorts, faintly, and scratches a little more forcefully at the map. It's a lie, from a strategic standpoint, and it's unsettling, how easily he can now believe it. He's always been rather patient, but this time, he just knows he won't be able to stand the wait. _Two days, _he thinks, _It's only two days. _And really, why should he be worried about being apart for two days in the first place?_ Chrom _is the one who said those five words, not him… No, no… Two days is nothing. Two days don't matter, not in the long run, and Cat…

He's still silent, and Chrom hates it. He averts his eyes for a moment, but then looks back at the other, exhaling faintly, softly. "Hey…" he murmurs, leaning over so that there's only a few inches between them, "It'll be fine." Again, it's a rather plain reassurance, but Chrom means it; he just doesn't know what else to say. He's never felt like this before, and he finds himself floundering more often than not, because really, despite all the girls who pine after him, Chrom has no idea what to do with this whole _relationship _thing. _You. Cat. Chrom. _With a girl, he thinks, it might be easier, but then… then it just wouldn't be _Cat, _would it?

Cat with ink, and ink with Cat.

No, he only wants one association with the word 'relationship'.

Cat doesn't look up at him. They sit there in silence for a moment, and while they can both feel it, their proximity, it's not entirely uncomfortable. Eventually, Cat nods, faintly, takes a breath, and then moves to stand. Chrom lingers for a moment, watching him, and then does the same.

"… You should move out in the morning tomorrow," Cat says, neutrally, "Inform the men tonight and then be on your way by noon."

Chrom nods and offers the other a faint smile, grabbing Falchion from where it sits against the table and strapping it back to his belt. It's growing dark outside, and there are still things to be done; Chrom figures he'll go pack up his things and leave Cat to his studies, as there are always things he's working on, plans he's ironing out… And aside from that, he's not entirely sure… not entirely sure if he's supposed to linger yet, considering the fact that it's only been…

Cat stops him, though, as he's about to slip out the door. He latches onto his sleeve suddenly, and Chrom pauses, just staring at him with wide eyes. The tactician is avoiding his gaze again, but this time his cheeks are a light, dusty pink, and that, Chrom thinks, is something, at least. For a moment, Cat hesitates, eyes flickering to and from his face, but then he leans in, silently, so that their lips brush just the slightest bit._.._

For a moment, there's just breath on breath and the feeling of Cat's hand, still tugging at this sleeve. Then, as quickly as it came, it's gone, and Cat has pulled away.

It was quick, Chrom thinks, and chaste, and perhaps not even quite a kiss, but he'll take it, because he knows the other's still… well, getting used to all of this. Hell, he's still getting used to it as well—not sure if he ever _will _get used to it—but…

Cat licks his lips and averts his eyes, flushed all the way up to his ears. He mumbles something under his breath that makes Chrom's eyes widen, and the lord can feel a grin pulling at his lips even as his cheeks heat up to a healthy, rose glow.

… at the very least, they'll stumble through it together.

* * *

**Oh my god I hate the ending so much. I usually try to avoid cheesiness and stuff like this, but I wanted to make this chapter more cute than angsty (because there was so much angst in the last arc), and it's just... ugh.**

**But whatever, enough of that.**

**Oh my gods, guys, I can't believe how many fantastic reviews I'm getting. I flip a shit every time I see an email alert on my phone now, I really do. I have to freaking sleep now, so I'm not gonna respond to individuals, but know that I love you all and am very grateful for the support! I've never really written a multi-chapter fanfiction like this, so this is like a big freaking deal for me, haha.**

**I do wanna say I apologize for any small mistakes such as minor tense changes, grammatical errors, omitted words, etc. They really do bother me, but I'm terrible at catching them sometimes, and these chapters are all unbeta'd when I post them, so just bear with any mistakes, please. Thanks!**

**Please, please leave a review if you can!**


	9. Match

**It's a chapter! From me to you.**

**Quick thing; lots more spoilers in this chapter and it's AN than maybe in the previous one. Though really, you shouldn't be reading this if you're not okay with spoilers, cause I intend to tackle the ending of the game itself in a later arc.**

**Second in the 'separation' arc. This one turned out so long. I don't even know how this happened; it just... did. It's kind of rambly and not that great in places, but I think it's important, so... yeah.**

**I decided to tackle the whole Lucina thing, partially in response to Tono-sama's suggestion. Now, this is a really delicate plot point, and I wanted to try to make Cat and Chrom's relationship as realistic as possible, considering the setting and what's canon in the game... I don't know how well I pulled it off, so feel free to tear up my attempts at making gay love match up with the plot.**

**Speaking of the plot, though; I should mention that I have no idea at what point in the same this story takes place. Obviously after Lucina has revealed herself, and also after Emmeryn's death, but it would have to be before the birth of baby Lucina to make sense... Really, I think I'm just going to delay the birth of baby Lucina; Lucina can just be born after the big war with Grima, right? Cause I mean, if I recall, baby Lucina isn't that big of a plot point, and Lucina from the future can just be a couple years younger... or whatever. These are drabbles with plot, guys; I don't intend to totally fuck up the canon, but I don't care about small changes like that, either.**

**If you have objects to that, feel free to voice them, but I really don't care.**

**Anyway, I love you all, my lovely readers. Without further ado...**

**Enjoy!**

***Note: I don't own Fire Emblem. If I did, Sacred Stones would have a sequel that centered around Joshua, cause he's like such a bamf and stuff.**

* * *

With Chrom gone, Cat finds that he has far too much time to himself. It's not that's he's ever disliked being alone—because really, time to himself is time to his books, and studies, and relaxing, momentary silence—it's just that he's not entirely sure what to do to pass the time. Two days isn't all that long, he knows, and normally, he'd have no problem keeping himself busy with tomes and strategies… For once, though… For once, he's restless; his fingers twitch whenever he stands still, itching for the bite of cold metal, and he finds that he just wants to move, move, _move._

He doesn't like this, this waiting game, which is odd, really, because waiting has never bothered him in the past. Chrom will be fine, he tells himself, and believes, it, too, somewhere deep down. He'll be fine… because he's _Chrom, _and really, they're not riding in particularly dangerous territory. Cat made sure of that himself, so there's… there's no reason for him to be so _anxious. _

Pressing his lips together, he snaps his book shut with a faint huff. The silence inside his tent is getting to him, because there are only his thoughts to fill it. He'd been trying to distract himself with a book on dark magic he'd borrowed from Henry, but then realized, quite suddenly, that he'd been reading the same paragraph over and over… So as it is, he gives up, standing and stretching with a faint frown on his face.

He wants to move. He wants to do something productive, even though preparations for the battle are all in order, their supplies have already been organized, patrols covered… _Training. _Cat exhales and sets the book down in his little chair, nodding to himself. Yes, it's been a while since he's just given a training dummy a good beating… and physical exercise is sure to keep his mind from wandering too much, right?

Slipping out of his tent, he makes his way towards the training pit, nodding to those he passes with a sort of thin, detached smile. Once there, he's glad to find it mostly empty. Vaike is sitting on a crate near the weapons' rack, though, sharpening his axe slowly, lovingly. He glances up when Cat approaches, grinning that white-toothed grin of his.

"Well, if it ain't Cat," he drawls, good-naturedly, "You want to go a round with the Vaike?"

Cat gives a sort of apologetic smile, reaching for a wooden longsword. "Hm. Not today, thanks. Just want to blow off some steam by myself." And it's so easy, he thinks distantly, to keep up this image of friendliness, familiarity. He's known Vaike for a while now, and yet at the moment, he somehow feels like a stranger… It's odd, and unnerving, but Cat shoves it away. Doesn't matter, he tells himself, Doesn't. He hovers for just a moment longer, a bit awkwardly, before shrugging and turning to go. "Thanks for the offer, though."

"Yeah, well, suit yourself." Vaike nods in his direction and then turns his attention back to his axe.

On the other side of the training pit, Cat shrugs off his coat and sets it neatly to one side. Then he turns to face one of the poor, abused practice dummies, spreading his feet a bit and settling into a fighting stance. _Don't think, _he tells himself, glaring at the hay and wood figure, _Just focus on the swordplay. _Because combat is all mental, he knows. All analysis, and decision-making, so he has to keep a level head. He imagines an enemy, armored and solid, that will bleed and gasp for breath with each well-placed blow…

Chrom has always liked training, Cat remembers suddenly as he circles the dummy, lashing out at every weak point a real enemy might have. He's always been one to wake up early just to get a few hours of training in… and then to get another few hours in after breakfast, before bed… It's an admirable quality, really, because a leader must always be at the top of his game, but Cat has never entirely understood how hacking away at nothing doesn't get… boring. Real combat is one thing—even Cat feels a rush in battle he can't get anywhere else—but he's just… never quite understood it, the diligence with which Chrom trains. He takes a breath as he sidesteps out of the way of an imaginary blow, spins to land a solid slash across the dummy's right flank. _Focus. _Breathe; inhale, exhale.

_Chrom _flashes through his mind again; skin slick with sweat as he parries one of Cat's blows, lunges in for a counter attack. They've trained together plenty of times, usually after the lord had dragged Cat away from one of his precious strategy logs. When it comes to swordplay, Chrom has always been superior, and Cat can't remember ever winning even one sparring match against the other. _"You're too tense," _the lord would always tell him, smiling in that easy, genuine way of his, _"You have to relax. Stop trying so hard to read me and just react…"_

_If only it was so easy…_

Cat grits his teeth and thrusts his sword up towards the dummy's stomach.

It's true that he's always tried to read Chrom… And looking back now, he wonders how he never _noticed, _noticed the way the other looked at him, and defended him, and went out of his way to track him down to do something as trivial as _spar. _He'd never thought that Chrom might…

Movement. Cat's eyes widen as there's suddenly a flash to his left, and he spins, reflexively, bringing his practice blade up to block the incoming blow. There's a sharp _clack _of wood against wood, and Cat's eyes flicker from their swords downwards, settling blankly on the one who attacked him. _Ah… _He tenses a bit, swallowing, because he suddenly feels a little awkward.

_Lucina…_

The princess is staring at him with hard, sapphire eyes, and it's unnerving, because everything about her is familiar. Her features are… uncannily similar to Chrom's, and it's always thrown Cat off, the mere thought of it, because _really, _she's his _daughter. _

_"I'm in love with you, Cat."_

There's a flare inside of him, hot and embarrassed, and gods, he just doesn't _get _it. People fall in and out of love… He understands that much, but it's still… a bit of an obstacle, to say the least, trying to figure out where Lucina falls into place. Doesn't her very existence prove that… that they're destined to drift apart? That Chrom will get together with some woman in the future, that he…

_That he's a prince who has duties to fulfill, a kingdom to run, and that no matter whom he's in love with, an heir is expected… _

Swallowing, Cat knocks Lucina's sword aside and takes a couple of steps back. The princess does the same, and then they're both just standing there, poised for a fight, mismatched blue boring into Cat's black eyes. "… That was a little bit rude," the tactician says eventually, in a cool voice, because even if he's panicking on the inside, trying to beat down the conflict that rises inside him at just the _sight _of Chrom's daughter, he's always been good at hiding his emotions.

Lucina just looks at him, features hard, and not the least bit apologetic. "Just wanted to keep you on your toes," she says, but she doesn't drop her fighting stance. There's something odd about her countenance, Cat notices dimly, something strange and resolved, and he really doesn't like the look of it. _Analyze, _he thinks, and Lucina's demeanor is hardly reading _ally. _

A cold feeling suddenly drops in his stomach. Gods, what if she _knows? _He swallows, thickly, but then wipes his face clean of any emotion. _Act natural, _he tells himself, and then all of a sudden, he feels a little annoyed, a little… defensive. No… No, he doesn't have to _act natural_. He and Chrom aren't doing anything wrong—r-really, they're not doing much at all—and daughter or no, it isn't any of Lucina's _business, _anyway. Cat is silent for a moment longer, staring at the other with dark, narrow eyes. "… You want to have a match?" he asks eventually, quietly, and really, it's unnecessary at this point, judging from the way they're both already poised for battle.

Lucina's eyes narrow a bit to match his. "Yes," she answers, without so much as missing a beat, and then suddenly, that wooden sword is coming down on him again, and it's all Cat can do to bat it out of the way. This, he thinks suddenly, is right. This is how he should be interacting with the other, because really, there's nothing for him to say, nothing she needs to know, and words… words would be useless, anyway, to try to explain something like this.

There's nothing he needs to _prove._

Dropping his guard for a moment, Cat feints to Lucina's left. Then he twists, suddenly, aiming his wooden sword at the princess's right side. It's a quick move, executed skillfully, because even if Cat's not quite as good as Chrom, he's certainly no pushover. Lucina, though… Cat inhales sharply as she parries the blade, sending him off balance. _Shit. _He swears, mentally, and struggles to reorient himself, but the princess is fast; she brings her blade across so that it collides sharply with cat's ribs, winding him.

Ah, _fuck. _Cat grits his teeth and staggers back a few steps, pressing one hand against his side. He stares at the other for a moment, eyes wide, a bit taken aback, because that… that footwork… and those moves. _She fights… just like Chrom. _And it's only natural, he knows, for the daughter to have learned swordplay from the father, but…

Suddenly, Cat feels lost.

Dammit… No, no, he doesn't want to think about this; doesn't want to think about the fact that Chrom has a daughter, and about what that means… for _them. _Their _future. _Because if they don't last—if they're sure to break up some day, then what… what's the _point?_

Lucina straightens for a moment, letting him catch his breath, and Cat is glad to see a little sweat on her brow, at least. Ha… Getting beaten so easily by a girl should be laughable, but he knows none of the women in their army are pushovers. It takes him a moment, but eventually, Cat straightens as well. He's still breathing a bit hard, and he can't bring himself to meet Lucina's gaze, but he straightens nonetheless. Something about this… The air around them is so tense, and Cat can't help it, the annoyance he feels. Vaike has left by now, so it's only him and Lucina in the little ring of tents.

Lucina… Chrom's daughter. His _lover's _daughter.

Suddenly, the word comes so easily to the front of his mind. Cat's glad that he's already flushed from the exercise, because _damn, _he never pegged himself to be the possessive type. _Gods, what is _wrong _with me?_

"Looks like you win," he concedes after a moment, forcing a winded smile, "You'd have gutted me if we'd been using real swords…"

Lucina doesn't say anything for a moment, but then nods, tossing her head slightly and pushing the hair out of her eyes. "If you were to use magic, though, I'd probably be dead within minutes." It's a sort of neutral admittance, and Cat realizes that it's probably true. Blinking, he looks up at the other and perhaps feels a little less irritated, to think that they're on level ground.

Then he notices something, though; Lucina is shifting from foot to foot, almost nervously, though her face is nearly blank. Cat swallows again, looking away. Ah… This is getting more and more awkward by the minute. With how awkward Lucina is acting, is it possible she… _No. _Cat twirls his blade once, absently, and then starts to turn towards the weapons' rack. He opens his mouth to say something else—cast another hollow courtesy over his shoulder, but then…

"Is there something between you and my father?"

The words stop Cat in his tracks, black eyes widening. For a sickening moment, there's just silence; a sort of heavy blanket seems to settle over the both of them, and neither moves, Cat still poised to leave and Lucina's gaze, holding him in place. Suddenly, the tactician can hear his heart thudding far too powerfully behind his eardrums. He blinks once, eyes flickering over to the princess, composure slipping, because really, he can't believe that she's just asked that… Cat opens his mouth once, but doesn't know how to respond. He closes it, is silent for a second, and then tries again;

"… I'm not entirely sure what you mean," he says, in a carefully guarded tone. Just beneath that, though, there's something else; something wavering and unsure of itself, and gods, Cat doesn't want it to be seen.

_She knows, _is all he can think. _She knows, she knows, she knows. _

He bites the inside of his lip, willing the Earth to swallow him whole.

Lucina doesn't buy it; it's obvious from the way her brow draws inwards even more, cheeks coloring a slight red. "Don't lie to me," she mutters, and Cat stops at the hurt tone in her voice. _Gods. She must hate me… _Because if the future can be altered, then doesn't Cat… doesn't he threaten Lucina just as Lucina threatens him?

They're really doomed, he thinks, if they ever hoped to get along.

"I can tell," the princess murmurs eventually, a bit hesitantly. Cat stares at her and tastes a bit of blood on his tongue. All he wants to do is make a run for it, but strategy tells him that there's no good in fleeing from something like this. "I can tell from the way you look at each other…" she continues, "When you got hurt a while back, the look on his face was…" She falters and averts her eyes, throat thick. Cat does the same, looking at the ground, because what, exactly, is he supposed to say? If Lucina figured it out, then… then do others know? Has she told anyone? He bites down on his lip harder, because he just… no, no, he doesn't want to hear this, hear about how someday, far in the future, Chrom will be living with someone else, someone who…

"He… never looked at mother that way."

Cat stops, staring at her, and for a moment, there's a startled look in his eyes, confusion. _W-What? _It takes a moment for the words to sink in, and even then, he's not entirely sure if he heard her right. Chrom… never looked at Lucina's mother… in the same way that he looks at Cat? The tactician struggles to figure it out, but he just… doesn't get it. What does that mean exactly?

Cat looks off to one side for a moment, awkwardly. He considers the idea of playing at innocence some more, but it's obvious that Lucina already knows, so… "… What… What do you mean by that?" he asks, and he feels like an idiot, like some sort of insensitive fool, asking Lucina to answer something like this.

Because he knows what he wants to hear, and he shouldn't, shouldn't make her say something like that.

Lucina is silent for a long time. When Cat finally ventures to look at her, she's just staring at him with glassy eyes, lips twisted into something torn, and confused, and suddenly, she looks so very young. _Like a child, _he thinks, and she's already lost her parents once… Finally, she takes a breath and speaks; "I… I remember you."

Cat feels as if he's rooted to the ground. She remembers him… from her past? The future?

"I remember you from back home. We… We were never really old enough to get it, but…" Lucina hesitates again, looking searchingly at the ground, and it's obvious that she's trying to figure out what she wants to say, because she's never had to speak of this before; never been supposed to. Eventually, she continues, shaking her head faintly; "Father… told us to call you our uncle."

The word hits Cat hard, somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. _Uncle._

"But I mean… I could tell it wasn't like that." Lucina rubs her left arm with her right hand, uncomfortably, as if cold. "You weren't around that often, but… W-When you were, you two hardly acted like brothers."

Cat feels himself flush this time, right up to his ears, because gods, how is he supposed to respond to that? There's a moment of pregnant silence, and then Cat lifts a hand to run through his hair, exhaling, trying to figure out what to do about this, what to say. "I… I'm sorry," he ventures finally, because he has no idea what else he can tell her. This is all nearly impossible to wrap his head around; time travel, the future, and _damn, _he shouldn't feel _guilty _for something he hasn't even done…

"Father loved Mother," Lucina says suddenly, voice hard and insistent, almost as if she's trying to convince herself, as well as Cat. It's 'loved' here, though, not 'loves'—the Chrom she's talking about isn't the same Chrom that Cat knows… He tells himself this, and wants to believe it. Licking his lips and trying to force down the sick feeling rising in his chest, Cat opens his mouth to respond.

"But he… he loved you as well."

The words are not so much acceptance as they are resignation; Lucina takes a breath and hangs her head a bit, hands curling into fists at her sides. Suddenly, Cat feels as if he can breathe a little freer, but seeing the princess like this is still… _Ah… _Cat's fingers curl tightly around his practice sword, and he can't help it, the guilt he feels, because he just… he _can't. _He can't stop this; him and Chrom, and yet he thinks… he thinks he can understand where Lucina is coming from. For a moment, he tries to see things from her perspective; to grow up knowing that her father had fallen for another man…

_Chrom… _Cat can't help but cling to the fact that he's _there_ in the future; that Lucina remembers him at all, and that even with a wife and child, Chrom still… Ah, but is he really okay with that? Imagining Chrom with some woman, he can't… he doesn't know what to do with himself, and _fuck, _doesn't that mean that it's all already hopeless?

_There's no point._

_I can't stop myself._

"Lucina," he says finally, "I don't know what you want from me…" He looks at her, lips pressed together, brow drawn inwards. "I can't… I can't promise you anything, but I have no intentions of holding Chrom back from…" He hesitates for a moment, swallows, and then presses onwards; "From his life with you… and your family."

_Your _family, he says, because no, it will never be his.

Cat doesn't have a family; never will.

He lets out a shaky breath, trying to hold it together when all he wants to do is disappear. "But you have to understand that we can't… help what we feel." And gods, what a cheesy line it is. Cat cringes a bit, but there's no other way to put it; it might've taken him a while, but… he's not ready to give up Chrom so soon. He can't. He just… can't. Because Chrom is the one; the only one who's ever managed to break down those barriers, and now that he's gotten so close, Cat won't just let him go, he _can't._

_No, no, no…_

Because for once, he's found something he wants.

And whatever happens, Cat intends to take it for all it's worth.

He turns, slowly, walking over and placing his wooden sword carefully back on its rack. He can feel Lucina's eyes on him, sharp as daggers, but beyond that, can't quite gauge her reaction. He doesn't want to. He can't afford to keep killing himself over something that hasn't even happened yet, because the future is the future; _now _is the present, and there are some things that foresight can't prevent. _Please try to understand… _he thinks, silently picking up his coat from where he'd cast it aside.

And it's as he's slipping it on that she speaks again, quietly; "Cat…"

He pauses, but doesn't look at her, eyes fixed on the ground, because he knows what she's going to say, and he just _can't _right now; _Lucina, please—_

"You make… a good uncle."

_… Eh?_

He turns, slowly, to fix her with a blank stare. For a moment, he thinks that he's misheard, but the way Lucina is looking at him… There's no hostility in her eyes; unease, perhaps, but no hostility. Suddenly, he feels as if there's something wrapped around his chest, constricting it. "Lucina…"

She cuts him off there with a shake of her head. "I can't… I can't accept this, but… I thought you should know that much, at least."

And Cat can't find it, the explanation _why. Why _should he know? _Why _would Lucina tell him something like that, look at him that way, because they don't even know each other—not really—and they shouldn't, Cat shouldn't have anything to do with her or play any part in her life, just as people shouldn't with him, because he's _not_… He swallows, thickly, but then she's turning to go, and even if he wanted to say something, there are no words Cat can find to explain this.

"We'll continue this match later," Lucina says, gazing at him, "So don't think you've won." And with that, she strides out of their little training pit, tossing her blue hair over a shoulder and then disappearing amongst the white tents.

Cat remains there for a moment, still, eyes fixed on the point where Lucina turned the corner and vanished from his sight. Eventually, he relaxes, just a bit, shoulders dropping and breath leaving him in a faint sigh. _What… What the hell was that? _He can't stop hearing them, her last few words; _"… don't think you've won." _Won? Cat gives a sort of incredulous, humorless laugh. Ha…

He hasn't won anything yet, and he knows it.

Beneath his shirt, bruises form along his side.

* * *

**Thanks, thanks, thanks for reading! I think the next chapter will be the last of the 'separation' arc.**

**This chapter has a lot of problems, but whatever, I don't care. Lucina was surprisingly easy to write, but Cat fought me the whole way; Why you resist characterization, OC of mine?!**

**I will now actually respond to some reviewers, because I'm not falling asleep as I type this like last time;**

** Missiletainn: Oh dear. It seems I've corrupted you, lol. Ahaha, sorry about that (or not), but yeah, if my stories are rated M, it's usually for a good reason. Anyway, uh, welcome to the world of perverts, I guess? And I'm glad you enjoyed chapter eight. Thank you kindly for the continued support!**

** 07thCrow: Thanks for the review! What did you think of my attempt to tackle the Lucina thing in this chapter, then? I'll bring in Morgan later more later, but could only really handle Lucina for this chapter. Anyway, thanks again.**

** Tono-sama: YOU. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW WEIRD IT IS TO GET A REVIEW FROM YOU. Actually, you do, since I told you at school, but whatever. Glad you're enjoying it; you know your feedback means a lot to me. I hope the character interaction with Lucina here gave you more of the characterization for Cat you were hoping for?**

** ArcanaElement: Oh. My. God. Dear, I cannot even begin to thank you for all of the great reviews you're giving me, and don't worry at all about them being long or taking a while to post them. I can't respond to everything you say, but I'm so glad you're enjoying the plot, and the imagery, and all that jazz! Thanks again!**

** Anonymus: Hm? Oh... Okay. Well, I never did do the supports between them (even though I ship them, too... I dunno, I guess I just didn't think about it when actually playing), so I didn't catch the 'Blue' thing. That's a cooler nickname, but I think I'll just stick with 'Princey' since I've used it so far. Anyway, thanks for the continued support!**

** Cerul: I'm so glad you enjoy the cheese, lol. I know, I know that some people like it and it's not like 100% crap; I'm just not that great at it and I always get self-conscious with fluff... Ah well. Thanks for the support! Self-conscious or no, I do enjoy writing fluff, so you'll get more in the future!**

**And thanks to all ya'll other people who have been reviewing! It means a lot to me! Seriously, I'm not usually this motivated for a fanfiction, but ya'll just make me wanna write more and more Chrom and Cat and it's so fuuun~!**

**lol, okay, I am getting sleepy now. Well, again, thanks for reading, and please review!**

***Note; And please ignore the minor unbeta'd mistakes. Though if there's something glaring that really bothers you, point it out and I'll fix it.**


	10. Back

**Wrote another chapter.**

**This one's shorter than the last; back to drabble length.**

**The last in the 'separation' arc. I'm so done with this arc, guys; I just wanna write the next one, cause I have great ideas, and I think I can make it like almost 100% angst-free (if Cat doesn't foil my plans again).**

**Anyway, enjoy.**

***Note: I don't own Fire Emblem, because alas, Sain/Kent isn't canon.**

* * *

There's blood in his eyes, and Cat isn't entirely sure who it belongs to. It could be his own, for all he knows, or that of some nameless, risen soldier, but really, it doesn't matter. He doesn't think about these things in battle, only registers, dimly, that it's obscuring his vision, cutting his reaction time in half, and _that, _that is what matters. Performance. Ability. Strategy. He's not dying, though, so he's okay. _Just keep moving forward, _he thinks, _Stay focused. _Focused, focused, focused.

Chrom.

He has to get to Chrom.

_Enemy, _flashes through his mind as one of the decaying monsters lumbers towards him. Its aim is off, but its reach is wide, claws sharp and no doubt toxic. Cat ducks under its first swing and darts inwards, stabbing the creature in the stomach and then wrenching his blade free at an angle, tearing. It lets out a sick, once human cry and spins, clumsily; the wound is bad, but it's undead, and thus, able to stay on its feet when a human would have crumpled. That's okay, though; Cat's fought enough of these monsters to know what to expect, so he's already out of reach, switching to a Thunder tome in one fluid motion.

Reciting the words without even looking at the pages, he focuses, feels the air heat up, sizzling. Then there's a _crack, _a flash of lighting, and the creature sputters feebly before collapsing, twitching and charred. Cat lets himself exhale. _Enemy down. Pause. Wipe the blood from your eyes. Repeat. _Like clockwork. Cat swipes the back of a sleeve across his face and then looks around, panting.

The battle is still raging; a ways off, he can see Sully bearing down on a risen, skewering the reanimated corpse before it can land a hit on a distracted Virion. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears the words thrown between them;

_"Some hero you're turning out to be!"_

_"Ah, my fair lady…"_

And Cat tunes out the rest, tearing his eyes away to continue assessing the situation; Lucina and Inigo, outnumbered, but by no means outmatched. Henry and Libra, teamed up against a stronger, risen general… Cat's eyes wander downwards, automatically, but he can't find any familiar faces on the ground. Good. Things are going as planned.

_Lissa, _he thinks suddenly, _Where is Lissa? _And he turns just in time to dodge a blow aimed for his spine, dancing out of the way and swearing, irritably. Small fry like this… "I don't have time for you," he grinds out, lashing out with his blade and catching the risen across the chest. Blood runs from the wound—still crimson, though cold—and the creature staggers. That's all the time Cat needs to finish it off; one solid slash downwards and its head is rolling from its shoulders…

Ah. He sees Lissa in the distance, and Lon'qu is where he should be, at her side. The swordmaster is her bodyguard, after all… Alright, Cat thinks, Lissa's fine. Their healer is fine; things are going as planned, but…

Where is Chrom? He should have met up with him by now, caught sight of him at least. Shaking his head a bit and moving deeper into the throng of risen, Cat scans the battle for that head of blue hair, the flash of Falchion, that fighting style he can recognize at a heartbeat… And it's a little illogical, some part of his mind reminds him, for him to be so worried, so desperate. _Don't let emotions cloud your judgment. _It's the number one rule of any good tactician. Chrom is fine. He's one of their most skilled warriors; he's _fine…_

_There. _He sees him, suddenly, only a few yards ahead of him. Cat just stares for a moment, silent, and breathing. Then he grimaces, eyes darting to the side, and brings his sword up to block an incoming axe. _Fool. _He pushes the axe aside so that his opponent staggers back, and then pulls out his tome to burn the risen to a crisp. So_ easy, _he thinks, _When given the right incentive._

"Chrom!" He says that name, without thinking, and sees wide blue eyes flicker over to land on him. They're both still for a moment, and then there's a smile, a flash of white teeth. Cat ignores it, offers none in return, but it doesn't matter. He turns, back against Chrom's flank, to keep an eye on the battle. Now… Now, more than ever, he must be cool, and collected, and professional, because as glad as he is to see Chrom—as much as his chest is straining with emotion—he has an army to direct, and the battle is not over yet.

Stahl takes a blow to the left shoulder. "Lissa!" Cat calls, without even looking at the girl, "Physic to Stahl! Now!" It takes a moment, and Cat watches as Sully rides in to assist the downed cavalier, defending him against the unsightly creature's assault… She deflects one clawed lunge and then retaliates, lance driving deep into the monster's chest, and yet _dammit, _Cat thinks, Stahl needs that physic… And that's when there's a blue light, soft and calming, and Cat exhales, looks away, moves on.

With Chrom at his back, he can analyze so much more freely, more securely.

Strategy, he thinks. This is fine. This is good. It all falls into place.

Glancing over his shoulder, he sees the lord cut down an advancing risen—a man with dark hair who died far too young. _Stop. _Cat shakes his head. _Don't think about it. _But his mind is just a whirlwind of activity… He blinks as Chrom glances back at him, grinning, somewhat stupidly, and _really, _they're on a _battlefield… _There's no reason for him to smile so brightly, no reason to be so optimistic.

_Ah… _But even as he thinks this, Cat can tell that the enemy army is thinning rapidly. They've crested the peak, and now they have the upper hand. For a moment, Cat and Chrom are in a safe zone, a pocket amongst minor skirmishes. Cat takes another look around, but sees no enemies advancing on them. Their healer is uninjured. Henry and Libra are still teamed up, and it's only a matter of seconds before they take down the last risen in their immediate area. Lucina and Inigo are fine; Sully and Stahl—now good as new—circle around Virion, and the others—Panne, Gaius, Tharja… They're all fine. Cat doesn't need to direct them; this battle is won…

So with a faint exhale, he lets himself turn back to Chrom.

The lord is smiling at him in a sort of shifty way, so that Cat narrows his eyes and watches him, warily. A million things are running through the tactician's head at the moment, but he can't voice them; doesn't want to, doesn't want to say anything to ruin this, to give them away… So as it is, he falls back on his silence, waiting for the other to say it, whatever the hell is on his mind…

"Did you miss me?"

And it's so ridiculous that for a moment, Cat can only blink. They're silent for a while longer; in the distance, there's only the clang of a sword here, a lance there. Cat looks like a mess, and he knows it; blood has poured into his left eye again, apparently from a gash on his forehead, but he can hardly even feel it with the adrenaline rushing through his system. Chrom doesn't look much better, but also isn't any worse, and it's laughable, really, the two of them standing here, Chrom asking him something as stupid and cheesy as _that. _

_Miss you?_

Cat shakes his head, a bit incredulously, though he can feel a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. No… No, it's not that he didn't miss Chrom, but he…

There's movement, suddenly, behind Chrom. Cat tenses, and for a long moment, feels as if he can't move fast enough, as if he's paralyzed… The risen came out of nowhere, and that axe is already coming down far too fast, so that all there is for a moment is panic in his chest, a hollow feeling in his lungs; all in the course of an instant. _No, no, no-! Move! _Without thinking, without even breathing, Cat lunges forwards, sword braced against his hip.

To Chrom, it surely looked as if he was about to stab him; the lord's eyes widen for an instant, almost comically, but then that blade glances past him, and Cat exhales, feeling it slip easily through flesh until its buried in the risen's stomach, all the way to the hilt. The axe-wielder lets out a sort of strangled cry and drops his weapon. Cat grits his teeth, resolved, twists the blade, and then pulls upwards.

It's a gruesome move, and Cat can't help it, the way blood splashes lightly across the front of his coat, his cheek… Then the monster crumples, nearly rent in two, and Cat is still for a moment before letting his shoulders fall, straightening. He takes a deep breath, wiping at his cheek with the back of one hand, and then, finally, turns back to Chrom.

The lord is just blinking at him, blankly. Laughable, really. _Did I miss you?_ he wonders again. Ha… No, he won't even dignify that with a response, because Chrom should already know the answer. Two days isn't all that long. Indeed, Cat hardly feels as if Chrom ever left, because _here; _here is where he should be, and it's only natural, only to be expected, and from now on… from now on, there will be no more waiting games or cryptic words.

Cat lowers his blade and smiles; _actually _smiles. "Welcome back," he says, but Chrom shakes his head in response.

No, not 'back'.

Chrom raises a hand to ruffle the back of his hair, grinning with soft blue eyes, and suddenly, Cat feels a little dizzy; he's just not used to it, this warmth, and at the next words that pass through Chrom's lips...

"I'm home."

He feels as if he's going to burst.

_Lucina can think what she wants, _he decides...

_... but there are some things that just won't change._

* * *

**There you have it. I'm so done with this arc (inspiration was shot a while ago, but I wanted to finish it for ya'll).**

**Next up is the beach, hmhmhm~**

**Anyway, review responses;**

** DDoS (hope you don't mind that): Haha, thank you kindly for dropping a review! Truth be told, I don't usually write things this long, either; certainly not fanfiction. I guess that's just how much I love this pairing and FE. Anyway, I'm glad Cat isn't coming off as a self-insert type character. I have tried to develop him as his own unique character, so I'm glad he's coming along well. That aside, really? You thought Lucina was too cold? I dunno about you, but she always came off as being kind of... really cold-to people she's not close to, anyway-in my opinion... Maybe because I paired her with Inigo in my playthrough? She was kind of a bitch to him until she got to know him better. Don't get me wrong, though; I do like her as a character. Anyway, regardless, thanks for the feedback! **

** lightmaster: I reduced you to tears?! lol, I'm sorry! Well, glad the emotion got across to you, then? And don't worry; I'll try to give ya'll plenty of fluff (and probably a lot of smut) in the next couple chapters.**

** DivineJudgment: Thanks for reviewing! Haha, I'm glad I was able to make you lean more towards this pairing, then? I personally pair Olivia with Henry... huh.**

** Cerul: Oh dear, I'm so sorry to keep hitting you right in those feels. Prepare yourself, though! For I intend the next few chapters to be nothing but pure fluff!**

** Arc-san: Thanks so much for the continued brilliant reviews! I'm particularly glad to hear that you're getting the exact idea of Cat's character that I intended. I'll probably explore his messed up memory and stuff more later, but I'm going to take a break from angst for a bit (or try to, anyway; it always seems to worm its way into my writing). Anyway, take your time reviewing and whatnot. Thanks again!**

**Phew! Okay, thanks to you all for reading!**

**Please leave a review!**


	11. Water

**Whew! Hey guys! Sorry this chapter took me longer than usual to upload; it was long and I was somewhat kind of busy this week, so it just took me a while to get around to finishing it.**

**Anyway, this one is at the beach! I don't know if this will turn into an arc or not... I'll probably write more beach scenes, but I don't know if I'll write them right after this one or not. Anyway, we shall see. Takes place at some indiscernible point after Chrom and Cat have become an item; before they've had sex for the first time, but aside from that, I don't know when.  
**

**I tried really hard to keep it lighthearted, guys. I've got so many good ideas for angstier chapters, though... I might need to get the angst out soon; again, we'll see.**

**This was really fun to write, though, haha. Shout out to Cerul for telling me to do a beach scene, and also for supplying me with the inspiring line, "Chrom decked out in nothing but a pair of speedos with the mark of the exalt stamped across his shapely butt." Ahaha, thanks for that!**

**Real quick, I want to remind ya'll that this is a collection of drabbles; aside from the 'arcs' building directly off of each other, these are fairly disconnected. So basically, please don't freak out or review about chapters skipping around and being seemingly random, because that's how they're supposed to be. They're drabbles. And frankly, I don't really care if something I write in one chapter contradicts something I established in another chapter (or doesn't match up timeline wise, or whatever). Thanks.**

**Well, without further ado... Enjoy!**

***Note: Remember that I don't own Fire Emblem, because if I did, Shadow Dragon wouldn't exist.**

* * *

"The beach?" Cat blinks up at Chrom over the edge of his book, both eyebrows raised, curiously. He's not sure what, exactly, he'd expected to hear when the other had approached him with a 'proposition', but this, he thinks is not it. The lord wants to take a trip to the beach? Cat's lips quirk downwards just the slightest bit, because really, all the beach makes him think of is scratchy sand, salty water, and a hot sun beating down on him, relentlessly... Ugh, he's just never gotten it; Who in the world actually _likes_ the beach?

Chrom, apparently, but there's more to it than that, as the lord quickly explains; "Anna invited us to take a little vacation. Just a couple of days… She says she wants to repay us for helping out her and her sisters." He's smiling that slight, hopeful smile of his, eyes just a bit rounder than usual. "Anyway, I think it'd be good for the men," he continues, shrugging, "To take a few days off. Raise moral and all that… Right?"

Cat presses his lips together and frowns just a bit more deeply at him. _Ah… S-stop making that face… _He can't help it, though; as much as the lord is trying to hide it, Cat can tell that Chrom really, _really _wants to go, and he's… he's having trouble resisting the look the other's giving him. _Damn, do the puppy eyes run in the family or something? _He runs a hand through his hair, reminded, suddenly, of Lissa and her ability to get just about whatever she wants from whoever she wants. And aside from that, Cat has to admit that Chrom's argument is sound. They're in a lull right now; the enemy's armies have retreated, and yet the Shepherds are tired. A couple of days of… vacation, as it is, might be just what they need…

Though Cat really, _really _hates the beach… When it comes down to it, it's Chrom's decision, anyway; he surely just wanted to check with the army's tactician before taking a trip like this. Exhaling, a bit exasperatedly, Cat lowers his book and leans back in his chair. "… It's your call," he says finally, and then adds, a bit begrudgingly, "But I guess I'm not… entirely opposed to it."

And he averts his eyes before he can be blinded by that smile, trying to think of this from a purely practical standpoint. Yes… Yes, this could indeed be just what their men need; he knows that, he just…

_Ugh._

He _really _hates the beach.

And he still hates it, a few days later, when he finds himself standing there on the shore, arms hanging defeatedly by his sides. Oh yes, he hates it. The sun is every bit as burning as he'd expected, and the sand is every bit as scratchy beneath his feet, and _hell no, _he is _not _getting in the water, thank you very much. He's wearing the bathing suit Anna gave him—she provided a change of clothes for all of them, as well as their lodgings; a large, dark wood beach house only a few hundred meters from the shore—but he'd simply refused to go around without anything covering his torso. So Gaius and the others made fun of him for it… Cat doesn't particularly care; the thin, white robe keeps him from burning to a crisp, at least.

Settling beneath the bamboo umbrella someone set up, Cat watches, glumly, as the others have their fun. He's a bit taken aback, really, by how little clothing some of the women are wearing. Lucina in that slim, one-piece halter-top, and… huh, now that he thinks about it, Cat can't remember ever seeing Sully in anything less than her armor. He doesn't dare even look at Cherche; Virion's already lost one tooth for staring just a bit too intensely… But then, he's never been particularly interested in women. In the water, Lon'qu is trying teach a floundering Lissa how to swim without touching her too much. Cat watches them, catches the flare of pink across the swordsman's cheeks, he has the sudden realization of, _Ah. _That's what's going on between those two. His expression softens just a bit, and then he lets his gaze resume its wandering. Gaius is fishing, perched on a rock a few yards away from the group. Stahl is sitting on the wet sand, just sort of shaking his head as Sully shouts at him to, _"Man up and get in the damn water!" _

And yet despite all of the activity… it's really rather peaceful. Cat takes a deep breath and exhales, leaning back on the palms of his hands. Okay, so… perhaps this isn't so bad. Call it a sort of protective instinct over the army he directs, but he's suddenly just glad that everyone's happy. Granted, Tharja and a few others are nowhere in sight—probably back at the beach house, avoiding the sun—but the trip is going well, and that's what really matters.

"You're not going to get in the water, Cat?"

He recognizes the voice before he even turns around; _Chrom. _A sort of thin smile pulls at his lips and he shakes his head without looking at the other, gazing out at the sea. "I'm not the biggest fan," he admits, and it's quite the understatement, really, considering he can't even swim. He's not about to admit to a weakness like that, though; no, best to just avoid the water until they go their merry way.

Chrom laughs lightly, ducking underneath the umbrella and settling down beside him. "Guess your name suits you, then," he remarks, and Cat can feel how close he's is, how he leans only slightly in the tactician's direction.

Cat just snorts, faintly, and then offers a small smile. "Hm." He finally glances over, digging one bare toe into the sand. "But to be honest, it's just that I…" He trails off there, though, eyes widening a bit as they take in the sight before him. Gods, what is… what is Chrom _wearing? _Or rather, it's that… he's hardly wearing anything at all. For a moment, Cat's too shocked to respond, and he can't help but stare, because _dammit, doesn't he have any shame?_

There's an awkward silence, and then Chrom furrows his brow, a bit worriedly. "… Cat?" he ventures, because the other isn't moving, "Are you alright?"

And that serves to snap the tactician out of it. He starts a bit, and then flushes, quite suddenly, quickly turning his head to hide it. Oh gods… He was staring, wasn't he? He hadn't meant to, but… but _really, _wearing something like that…Suddenly, Cat's finding it a little hard to think straight. "Huh?" He swallows, still avoiding the other's gaze, realizing that he's supposed to give some sort of response. "Ah… Yeah. Fine…" _Totally fine… _Taking a breath, he ventures a sideways glance at the other, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on Chrom's _face _and nowhere else. He swallows, furrowing his brow. "Did… Did Anna give you that?"

The lord blinks uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then glances downwards, a look of realization passing over his features. "Oh, this?" He presses his lips together for a moment, and Cat can feel some relief, at least, to see the other's cheeks take on a faint pink hue. "Ah… Yeah." Chrom ruffles the back of his hair, shifting, a bit awkwardly. "She said something along the lines of, 'A leader has to look cool and professional…'" There's a forced, nervous laugh. "And I mean… it was free, so…"

Cat just stares at him for a moment, knees drawn together, still a bit flustered. He gets it, though; Chrom definitely isn't one to refuse a gift, even if it is a… tight, aqua bathing suit. _Still. _"It's rather… small," the tactician mutters in a dead voice, and then scratches the back of his neck, once again averting his gaze. He just… can't help it; they've been together for a while now, but Cat's still not used to seeing so much of that toned abdomen, or those firm, white thighs… And he stops that train of thought there, pressing a hand to his hot cheeks

Chrom is silent for a moment, blinking at the other, and it's painfully obvious, how flustered the bathing suit is making Cat. It's adorable, really, to see the tactician wrapped up in that white robe of his, averting his eyes and tracing nervous patterns in the sand. Suddenly, though… Suddenly, Chrom is struck with a desire to do away with it entirely. It's only fair, right? Cat's getting to see him in something like this—though really, Chrom has never been the self-conscious type—so Chrom should get to see him in _his _bathing suit, at least… or, most, that is.

"… Let's go swimming," he says suddenly, and it's comical, really, how Cat's eyes go round as they stare at him.

"W-What?" the tactician asks, a bit caught off guard, but Chrom pulls him to his feet without waiting for an answer, grip firm around his left wrist. "Ah…" Cat feels his stomach do an awkward sort of flip then, apprehensive and taken aback, because no, no… "I don't actually—"

Chrom cuts him off with a light laugh. "Oh, come _on, _Cat. Lighten up a bit." He turns and gives the other a bright—albeit a bit shifty—smile. "We're at the _beach. _We're supposed to have fun." He puts his hands on the other's shoulders then, facing him fully and looking him up and down. Oh yes… The robe will _have _to go. Though… Chrom pauses and purses his lips a bit, a thought occurring to him for the first time. "… You burn really easily, though, huh?" A grin. "Want me to help put sunscreen on you or something?" It's a long shot, but a guy has to try, doesn't he?

Cat flushes, because hell, he knows exactly what Chrom is thinking. "I'll be fine," he mutters automatically, fidgeting a bit with Chrom's hands still on his shoulders. He won't, but at this point, he's willing to endure a bit of sunburn. And ugh… He really doesn't want to get wet, but looking at the situation… he knows he won't be able to get out of it. Averting his eyes, he lets out a small sigh. "It's just I… I don't really know how to swim." He mumbles the confession, as if afraid others will hear.

Chrom just blinks at him for a moment, blankly. Eh? Cat doesn't… know how to swim? For some reason… it's a bit hilarious, and he has to press his lips together to keep himself from laughing outright. Ah, to think that their brilliant tactician can't stay afloat in the water… Really, it's a bit alarming, because something like that is an important skill to have. It's also quite appropriate, though. _Cat, _he thinks, and smiles, teeth flashing. _Heh… Just like a cat. _

"Well…" Chrom thinks for a moment, but… no, that's not about to stop him. "I can teach you then." He nods without waiting for an answer, as if making up his mind. "No, I _should _teach you. You should learn in case you ever… I don't know, fall in a river or something." He shrugs.

"I should hope that'd never happen," Cat says under his breath, but eventually nods, begrudgingly, because really, Chrom has a point. A large part of him wants to just stay here under his nice umbrella… but Chrom's giving him _that look _and Cat just can't bring himself to argue. "… Fine," he agrees, in a small voice, and then lets Chrom take hold of his hand again.

He can only hope none of the others are looking as Chrom half-leads, half-drags him down to the shoreline. It's only when Cat can feel the water washing lazily over his toes that Chrom stops, turning to him with a serious look on his face. "You're going to have to take the robe off, you know," the lord says matter-of-factly, and Cat furrows his brow a bit in response, because yes, yes, he _knows… _

And really, he shouldn't be so self-conscious about it when Chrom is standing here before him in a skin-tight bathing suit and… _gods, _is that the mark of the Exalt stamped across his ass? _Isn't that blasphemy or something?! _He swallows and shakes his head flusteredly, but then slowly moves to take his robe off, balling it up and tossing it into the sand further up the shore. He's certainly glad that Anna chose a more modest bathing suit for him; the black and white trunks come down to his knees, and are far looser than the thing Chrom has to wear. Nonetheless, Cat feels naked without any sort of shirt on, and it's obvious that he doesn't wear short sleeves often from the way his skin glares white in the sunlight.

Chrom stares for a moment without really thinking about it. It's not as if he's never seen Cat shirtless—the men have taken communal baths plenty of times—it's just that… he's undeniably fascinated by the other's svelte body. Cat is slim, and streamlined, though perhaps a bit too thin for his own good, and Chrom can see scars littering his fair skin, silvery in the sunlight. It's a bit saddening, because Chrom knows for a fact that most of those scars weren't there when they first met. At the same time, though… he likes it; just the sight of the other, the knowledge of each line of his body…

He likes it because it's _his, _and from the way Cat fidgets and crosses his arms over his chest, the tactician knows it, too.

"Chrom," Cat mutters, flatly, "Stop staring."

Chrom starts a bit, and flushes, because… ah, he had been staring hadn't he? Suddenly, the lord feels a little tongue-tied, like a child caught trying to get away with something. "Eh? I… I wasn't…"

_"Chrom."_

"Right, right…" Chrom lets out a nervous laugh, because he knows that, that _don't-lie-to-me _face. Then he turns, grabbing Cat's hand and heading into the ocean. Right… Their subordinates are right over there, after all. As much as he'd like to, Chrom knows they can't be so straightforward in public just yet. Though… he does move away from the others, deliberately, putting a good bit of distance between them as he leads Cat out into the water.

Cat doesn't like it, the feeling of the sea lapping hungrily at his skin, coming higher, and higher. Even though he doesn't have to, he finds himself standing on tiptoes to put that much more distance between the surface and his head. He almost forgets it, then, his embarrassment, and it's replaced with a feeling of unease, discomfort. "Ah… Chrom," he says, tugging at the other's hand to signal that he wants to stop, "Isn't this far enough?" The ocean is already up to his ribcage; he can feel the current pulling persistently at his legs and moves closer to the lord without thinking.

Chrom pauses and looks at him, eyes softening a bit at the somewhat frightened look on his face. "You're fine, Cat" he reassures with a smile, though he does decide to stop here, where they can still stand on flat feet. "Here, try floating on your back first… I'll hold you up."

As it is, Cat's too nervous to give his usual flustered response. Instead, he gives the other a wide-eyed look, and then nods, silently, letting his feet drift out from beneath it. It takes him a moment to get lateral, and he sputters at first, sinking, hating the taste of saltwater in his mouth. _Oh… shit… _No, no, he doesn't like this one bit. _I… I think I'd like to get out of the water now, _he thinks, blandly, as he paddles awkwardly with his hands.

He can feel the other supporting him, though, one hand pressed against his lower back, the other against the base of his neck. Chrom's voice is soft; soothing, even. "Hey, hey," he says, smiling down at him, "Relax. You're always too tense…" It's the same line as always; _too tense, too tense, too tense…_

_How can I relax when I'm nearly drowning?!_

But Cat realizes after a moment that… he's _not _nearly drowning. With Chrom's support, he's safe… For now, at least. They're lucky that the sea is so calm today, and on his back like this, Cat can look up and see seagulls circling lazily overhead. Relax, he thinks, Just relax… Taking a deep breath, he exhales, slowly, trying to ignore the way the seawater laps at his cheeks.

Involuntarily, his eyes drift over to Chrom's, which are bright and warm as they gaze down at him. "You alright?" the lord asks, voice muffled a bit by the water licking at Cat's ears.

The tactician swallows, but then nods, and even offers a hesitant smile in response. Is he good? No, but he would venture to say that he's alright. It's taken him a moment, but he's managed to relax his muscles to a certain extent… and then, quite suddenly, he's aware of the fact that the pressure has left his back. Chrom isn't holding him up anymore, and he's floating.

Floating, floating…

Okay, so this isn't so bad. Cat takes another deep breath and lets himself close his eyes, because he's more comfortable now, especially with Chrom by his side.

With Chrom by his side… It's the same feeling he gets battling with the other, working on something with him, or just walking next to him, chatting, thoughtlessly. It's a feeling of ease, and assurance, knowledge that _here, _here is at least one person who truly knows him… With Chrom, Cat is verified. With Chrom, Cat feels like he belongs, and he doesn't want it to leave, that warmth. He won't be able to handle it, isn't sure if he ever will…

"There… That wasn't so bad, was it?" The lord speaks in a quiet tone, and Cat hears some faint splashing as he assumedly reorients himself. Cat doesn't so much as open his eyes, only giving a faint hum in response, because he doesn't want to break it, this strangely peaceful trance he's fallen into. Floating on his back like this… it's actually nice. Cat still doesn't like the beach, but… perhaps the ocean is just a bit more bearable…

There's silence for a moment, and then Cat feels the other take hold of his hand again. The tactician opens his eyes, blinking, and looks over. Chrom is on his back now as well, left hand clasping Cat's right, loosely. _Verification, _Cat thinks. It's not really practical, but… nonetheless, Cat isn't about to protest. It's not like any of the others can see them from here… Cat's not entirely sure of this, but for once, he decides to be risky. Closing his eyes again, he lets the silence fall over them both.

It takes a moment, but pale fingers curl a little more securely around Chrom's tanned. The lord smiles, gazing first at the sky, and then at the other's relaxed features; Cat's profile, ink black hair haloed around his head.

_This, _he thinks. _This _is why he likes the beach.

It's been a while since they got together; since they established things that'd been unsaid and thus, made them into reality. Normally, Chrom thinks he would've gone further than they have, said more, done more, explored more of the other and their relationship. As it is, though, they're going at Cat's pace, and Chrom is okay with that. He's okay with that because he doesn't want to screw things up, and with something this delicate, they can't afford to dive in headfirst.

Still, though…

He moves, slowly, and silently, keeping their fingers interlaced. The tactician feels him move, surely, but apparently thinks nothing of it. Chrom knows the feeling; the ease and lack of concern that washes over one at a moment like this. So as it is, he's happy to take advantage of it, bending a bit in the water to place a light kiss on the corner of the other's mouth.

Cat's still for a moment, though Chrom feels him tense just the slightest bit. Then he opens his eyes, black shining like night. He drops so that he's standing in the water again, facing Chrom, silent and expressionless. For a moment, the lord isn't sure what to think; he watches Cat for some kind of reaction, sees him glance at the others in the distance, briefly, but… none of them are looking this way…

So in a still-silent reverie, he takes hold of Chrom's other hand and leans up just a bit.

Breath ghosts across breath. Their lips brush once, and then connect when Cat's done hesitating and Chrom can properly respond. The kiss is chaste at first, until Cat's lips part unexpectedly and Chrom can't pass up such an obvious invitation. Then there's more heat, more breath, and a slight sound from Cat that's not unlike a mewl.

Chrom pauses, and he can't keep a grin from spreading across his face. He smiles into the kiss, and then starts laughing, breaking it so that they're just standing there with their foreheads together, Cat blushing like an idiot, because _really, _what's so _funny? _The tactician exhales, almost pouting, but then just slips his hands around Chrom's neck and leans in for one final peck.

"… We should go in," he says after a moment, quietly. They can save the rest of their swimming lesson for later, and as much as he'd like to continue… They've drifted, and the water is now up to his collar.

Chrom just hums in response, and nods, already bouncing towards the shore a bit, though he's reluctant to move his hands from their place around Cat's waist. As they head in towards the shore, they pull apart more, but their hands stay locked together, just beneath the surface.

Well, Cat thinks, as he lumbers out of the water. He's hot, and itchy, and his mouth is definitely full of seawater, but… As it turns out, he might not hate the beach so much, after all.

And he's determined to enjoy the rest of their trip.

* * *

**Poor Cat's gonna be hurting in the morning... but that's what he gets for not letting Chrom rub nice, cool sunscreen all over his back.**

**Ah well, Chrom can rub Aloe on him instead.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading! I don't know how these keep getting so long... **

**Review replies!**

** Arc-san: Haha, thanks so much for all of the new reviews! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story enough to leave such a great review each chapter! I do indeed enjoy writing this; otherwise, I would never be able to churn out so much of it, lol. I'll try to stick with the lighthearted fluff for a little longer; you're right about flushing out the angst, after all.**

** Cerul: lol, yeah, I decided to let them have their happy ending without either of them getting cut up or anything. Thanks for the support!**

** noiritesse: Well, you do have a point, there... Though I guess I was thinking that a gash on the end-as long as it's not too deep-will bleed a lot without actually being lethal. Chrom freaked out when he thought Cat was dying, but Cat's not dying here, so I think he's more relaxed about it, considering they're on the battlefield, and thus, can't take the time to worry too much about minor injuries. You're right, though; I wasn't really thinking about it. Regardless, thanks for the feedback! Haha, maybe I'll play off of Chrom being 'hypersensitive' to Cat getting injured more in future chapters.**

** Anon: Beyond the passing comments I make here and there, I don't really plan to go into other pairings at this point. I hope to explore the relationships between Cat and Chrom and the rest of their army more, but not really relationships that aren't related to the main couple. Anyway, thanks for the review!**

** Anonymus: Beeeeecause the ending is just boring otherwise? Haha, and because ya'll should know, by this point, how much I love my angst.**

**And thanks to everyone else who reviewed! It means a whole lot to me!**

**Thanks again for reading, and please drop a review if you can!**


	12. Sunburn

**Another more lighthearted chapter. I think it was once again Cerul who asked for exactly what I'd already been considering; a follow up to the beach scene with sunburnt Cat and opportunistic Chrom. **

**This fluff thing is getting harder for me to write; I have so many good angst ideas in my head. Anyway, this'll probably be the last fluffy scene I write for a while. I dunno. We'll see.**

**(I do have an idea for a crack chapter in which Tharja accidentally gives Cat... well, cat ears and a tail, lol. We'll see. Would you guys actually want to read something that ridiculous?)**

**That aside, enjoy this entirely mediocre chapter.**

***Note: If I owned Fire Emblem, I would've found a way to get Ephraim into a SSB game by now. (Guys, have I ever mentioned how much I like Ephraim? Like seriously, could you not tell? Pfft...)**

* * *

Cat is in a lot of pain the next morning. He wants to blame it all on Chrom—it was the lord who dragged him out from under the umbrella, after all—but he knows that it's his fault at well. Chrom _had _offered to help him put sunscreen on, but Cat had just been too flustered and moody to accept… Really, though, who could blame him? The idea alone of Chrom rubbing slick hands across the skin of his back had been enough to make Cat flush right up to his ears, and _gods, _they'd been in _public. _No, no… They just… Cat just couldn't have gone through with something like that; Who knows what it would've turned into?

So as it was, he'd allowed himself to go without sunscreen as the lord had attempted to teach him how to swim… Of course, that had resulted in some drifting hands and open-mouthed kisses as well, but at least then they'd been far enough out that none of the others had seen.

Lying on his back in one of the twin beds in the beach house, Cat lets out a soft, frustrated groan. "This… is why I hate the beach," he mutters, almost whines. He's dressed in nothing but a pair of black shorts, and almost every inch of his exposed skin is a bright, angry shade of red. The burning is persistent; Cat feels hot, perhaps even a little feverish, and he hates it because there's apparently not much the healers can do for him. He doesn't get it, why something like a sunburn is so difficult to fix, but Maribelle and Lissa had just given him these long, pitying looks and told him to apply aloe every few hours.

_"You shouldn't have gone out without putting sunscreen on," _Maribelle had chastised him, _"Just stay inside today and get Chrom or somebody to help rub aloe on your back."_

Beside him, said lord gives a somewhat apologetic smile. Chrom can't help but feel guilty, all things considering, because while he'd known Cat's fair skin would burn, he hadn't expected it to burn so badly, so quickly. He feels a bit sick, seeing the other in such obvious discomfort, and dislikes the fact that there's nothing he can do but keep him company and help try to keep him cool. "Do you want a drink or anything?" he asks, a bit helplessly, "Ice water? Or… That lemonade stuff Anna made might help cool you down…" He's been sitting by the tactician's side for a while now, tending to him as best he can with a damp, cool rag; folding and reorienting the cloth on Cat's chest, which had apparently received the worst of the burn, since he'd been floating on his back so much.

The tactician shakes his head, brow drawn together in a tight pout. "No." He sits up, slowly, gingerly, hissing at the pain it causes him. Holding the damp cloth, he glances around. "Where's that aloe stuff Maribelle gave me?" And he's trying—he really is—to keep his features and tone straight and pain free. As it is, he knows there's not much for them to do; it's been a while since he last rubbed in the soothing gel the healers gave him, and he's longing for the cool relief, however momentary it'll be.

Chrom locates the little pot and scoots a little closer to the bed. Cat reaches for the aloe, bracing himself on one hand, but the lord pulls it out of his grasp. Furrowing his brow further, Cat gives him a questioning, almost hurt look.

"You just lie back down," Chrom tells him, "I'll rub it in for you." The smile he gives the other is just a little bit too sweet, and it's true that there might be some less than noble intentions running through Chrom's head. Really, how could he pass up an opportunity like this to run his hands over each dip and arc of the other's body? Ulterior motives aside, Chrom really does want to ease the other's pain however he can; Cat can't move much without hurting, so it only makes sense for Chrom to help him out, right?

The smile isn't lost on Cat, and he eyes the other, a bit warily. He thinks he has an idea of what's going through Chrom's head, but it's true that he's hurting quite a bit right now… _It's logical, _he thinks. Only logical… So nodding faintly, Cat concedes and lies back down. He's a bit apprehensive, but tries to swallow it, because he's really in too much discomfort to worry about Chrom's intentions right now… Closing his eyes with a quiet sigh, he listens as Chrom unscrews the jar, waiting.

"This is at least 65% your fault, you know," Cat mutters absently, accusingly, because really, he just wants to complain, "If you hadn't insisted on teaching me how to swim…"

"Hey, hey." Chrom sounds a little defensive, but Cat can hear the smile in his voice. "You're the one who wouldn't let me put sunscreen on you. Though I am sorry; I didn't think you were so sensitive to sunlight…"

Cat sighs, pitifully. "Neither did I…"

Chrom glances up at the other's features for a moment, his closed eyes, and then scoops up a generous amount of the gel, spreading it on his fingers. Leaning over the other a bit, he smiles as he places his hands on Cat's chest, near his collarbones. The way the tactician flinches a bit makes his stomach do a little flip, and Chrom actually feels himself flush a bit, sheepishly. _Necessary, _he reminds himself, and tries not to let his mind wander as he runs his hands across the other's skin. First up to his shoulders, massaging a bit, and then back down, across Cat's pink chest and down to his abdomen. Well, in the end, he got to rub something into Cat's skin... He's enjoying this, of course, and massages the aloe in just a bit more than necessary, but it's not like he would do anything to take advantage of the other while he's in this state… Though Chrom can't help it, some of the images running through his head; the wistful desires that have been building up, slowly, over time…

Cat relaxes, gradually, as they fall into silence. The fact that Chrom's hands are running over his chest is certainly enough to made his heartrate speed up... At the moment, though, the touch is more soothing than anything else.

Chrom finds his eyes drifting lazily over the other's torso, down to his hips, the defined lines leading into his shorts. He wouldn't be able to get away with anything like that, he knows. Not yet…

"You're thinking something dirty, aren't you?"

Cat's voice makes the lord start, flushing brilliantly, uncharacteristically. Blush aside, though, he looks up at Cat's narrow black eyes and grins. "Probably…" he admits, blinking, lazily, as his hands rub circles on Cat's lower abs.

The tactician gives him a long look, trying to ignore the way Chrom's ministrations are now, indeed, making his chest flutter. He swallows, a bit dryly, and then can't hold the other's gaze any longer and looks away. "Pervert," he says, in a quiet tone.

Chrom actually laughs a bit, and then shifts so he's leaning against the edge of the bed, bending over Cat as his hands drift up his ribcage. "Does it feel good?" he asks, in a low voice. He knows that he's pushing his luck here—treading in dangerous waters, so to speak—because really, they've never gone much further than heated make-out sessions; clothed caresses and whispered words… It's not that Chrom doesn't want to go further—and really, he doesn't think that Cat's opposed to it, either, on a basic level—it's just that… they've never quite found the right time or place, and Cat's never quite gotten past that barrier, that warning sign…

Chrom doesn't know, what exactly has been holding them back, but he can see the way Cat's eyes flash, nervously, as he half kneels on the edge of the bed. He doesn't receive an answer.

He pauses for a moment, hands still on Cat's upper arms, and suddenly, they're both silent, just staring at each other. Chrom's eyes flicker searchingly over Cat's face, and Cat's do the same to his, until obsidian meets sapphire and they're unable to look away. They're alone, Cat knows, and feels his stomach drop at the realization—not in fear, but in something close. He licks his lips once, arms tense and straight at his sides.

Chrom seems to hesitate for a moment, as well, which is uncharacteristic of him, and tips Cat off that things might be a little different this time. He doesn't think he's up for much, with the way his entire body burns, dully, persistently… But then, the aloe is working wonders. Finally breaking eye contact, Cat looks at the door to the bedroom. He doesn't know who else is in the house at the moment. If Chrom wants to do anything, then…

The lord seems to catch the meaning of the glance, and sets the pot down silently, pulling away from the bed for a moment to lock the bedroom door. When he returns, he moves slowly, but confidently, straddling the other so that the bed creaks beneath their combined weight.

He reaches over and scoops a bit more of the aloe onto his fingertips, then lets them trail slowly from Cat's collar up his throat. Brushing his gelled fingers over Cat's cheeks, he grins at the way Cat squeezes his eyes shut for a moment; an odd, reflexive reaction to the cold. "Your cheeks are really red," the lord says in a quiet voice, leaning over so that his lips hover above the other's.

Cat flushes, opening his eyes, but it's hardly noticeable on his already crimson face. "I'm aware," he mutters, finally lifting his hands to brush against Chrom's shoulders, drift upwards to link around his neck.

Chrom hums, but says nothing smart in response, instead just closing the distance between them. Cat's lips are a bit dry against his own, but soft nonetheless, unresisting as Chrom tilts his head to deepen the kiss. Cat closes his eyes, letting himself drop his guard now that he knows that the door is locked. His fingers thread through Chrom's hair, tangling in the short, blue locks, and he actually draws the other a bit closer, welcoming the distraction from his burning skin.

They part for a half second, to breathe, and then Chrom's mouth is on his again, tongue swiping gently across Cat's lower lip. The tactician complies in parting his teeth, and then he finds himself pushed even deeper into the pillow as Chrom's tongue slides into his mouth. He moans, somewhere in the back of his throat, without thinking. A half second later, though, Cat blinks and tilts his head a bit to break the kiss, breathing hard. "Chrom…" he says, in a breathy tone, because he's highly aware of how the other is straddling him, hips against hips, and if this goes on, he _really _doesn't know what's going to happen. The prospect is frightening, in its own way, and aside from that, Cat can suddenly hear footsteps, passing outside their door.

It's not that he doesn't want to, he thinks, It's just…

Chrom sighs lightly, but smiles, and nods in understanding. "Not the best time," he says, because really, it's still midday, "I know." He leans in again for one last brief kiss; chaste, but lingering—Cat can taste mint on his lips. Then he pulls back entirely, climbing off of Cat and wandering absently to the door, just to unlock it. They don't want people getting too suspicious, after all, and there's nothing more suspicious than a locked door.

Returning to Cat's beside, he smiles warmly as the other starts to sit up, raising one eyebrow. "Wait a minute," he says, "You think you're going somewhere?"

Cat looks at him, somewhat confused, because yes, actually, he thinks getting up and moving can't be entirely bad... What's it to Chrom? Plus, he kind of wants to get up and move, perhaps be away from the other for a bit so he can attempt to cool off.

Chrom stops him, though, standing over him and gesturing vaguely with one hand. "Oh no you don't. You can't yet." The grin on his face makes Cat blink, pressing his lips together. "Roll over," he insists, "We still have to do your back…"

* * *

**The ending is pretty crap, I know, but whatever; I was so done with this scene.**

**I did enjoy writing it, though, particularly the dialogue; Cat's becoming more comfortable talking about their relationship by this point so he's a bit more open. It's fun.**

**Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed!**

**No review replies this time, guys. Sorry!**

**Thanks so much for reading! Please drop a review if you can; it means a lot to me...**


	13. Panne

**Another chapter.**

**Warning: This chapter contains massive amounts of angst, character death, and lots and lots of spoilers. I told you guys the angst was building up, right? I actually wrote this before I finished the 'Sunburn' chapter and just wanted to finish that fluffiness up and post it to offset this.**

**Okay, so this chapter is mostly stream of consciousness, just so you know. Do forgive me if it's not entirely coherent; the narrative style is a little wonky in that it's supposed to reflect Cat's mental state.**

**I have a lot of ideas regarding Cat's past, and I drop some hints here. I feel that he'd start experiencing flashbacks and the like, especially after he finds out that he's Validar's son, so that's what some of the italics in this chapter are. I also plan to make his internal struggle with Grima more apparent in future chapters.**

**Basically, this is an extremely experimental/exploratory chapter. Do forgive me if it's not the highest quality, as I was toying with a lot of ideas and techniques, just kind of writing what I felt.**

**Takes place at some indefinable point towards the end of the game. Remember that these drabbles aren't consecutive-hell, they might even contradict each other sometimes.**

**But enough of that. Without further ado, enjoy!**

***Note: I don't own Fire Emblem. If I did, I think I'd know more punny FE jokes to make here.**

* * *

The silence hanging over them is somehow deafening, in its own right.

Cat sits on the edge of the bed, hair and clothes still dripping from the rain, clinging far too closely to alabaster skin. Chrom leans against the door across from him, head bowed, uncomfortable in his own damp clothing, but unable to bring himself to care. He stares at the floor with dark eyes—clouded pools, contemplative, despairing, rather than the bright sapphires they're supposed to be, the gemstones Cat has always loved. Cat's head is also bowed, but the tactician isn't even looking at the floor anymore; his eyes are hazy with exhaustion and defeat, focused on something far off in the distance, something forgotten.

They shouldn't be acting this way. They shouldn't. They shouldn't have to sit here in crushing silence when there's so much they're suppose to say, but Cat can't, he just can't _deal _with anything right now, because it's _all his fault. _He's let them down. Failure. Mistakes. Gods, how could he have slipped up like that? How could he…

There is a sort of muffled intake of breath; something close to a sob, choked. Cat still doesn't move; bows his head a bit more, perhaps, in shame.

No, he thinks.

No, no, no…

Gods it's all his fault. She's dead, and it's all his fault… It's all he can think about, the only thing that will run through his mind, because it just doesn't matter; it doesn't matter if they won the battle, if Validar's forces retreated, because Panne is _dead, _and it's _all his fault…_

Cat's aware of it, innately; he can feel it in his bones, how he hasn't killed one person, but an entire _species. _

Panne, Panne, Panne…

He never did spend much time with her. The taguel had always been distant, as she was from all humans, but the few words she had exchanged with him had been soft, and warm, because they were on that comfortable ground of understanding that they would never understand each other. Cat cannot say that he had any sort of personal connection with her, but now that she's gone, he can only remember her, remember everything about her…

The time she gave him a small sack of herbs; something to put in his tea, because she'd heard he'd been having bad dreams.

"Why would she do that?" he asks aloud, and he's not aware of it, not aware of the fact that he's sobbing, face buried in his palms, "Why would she give that to someone she barely knew? We weren't even close… I… I barely ever even spoke to her, a-aside from giving her orders, and she… she _trusted _me…" Put her life in his hands, because he's the _tactician, _dammit; he's the one who's supposed to keep them all safe, and now two have died because of him, two lives—friends—that can never be replaced.

They both carried more weight than any of the others—Panne and Emmeryn. They were both so much more important, carrying a country, a species, knowledge, life, love… Cat's a nobody, so why is he even here? Why did they have to die when someone like him…

"It…" He chokes again, and suddenly, he's aware of the fact that Chrom has left his post against the door. The lord sits beside him on the bed and holds him, tugging him in until Cat's forehead presses against his collar.

He shouldn't be doing this.

He shouldn't be breaking down.

He has no right to be comforted by someone when Panne is dead because of him, and the others… all of those who were closer to her, his soldiers, her friends, are suffering so much more… He has no right, and he hates it; he hates this stupid war, and Validar, but above all, he hates himself and Grima.

Grima.

Him.

One and the same, the same and one; ink to Cat as Cat is to ink.

"Fuck…"

Gasping, Cat finds that he can't stop the tears from spilling angrily down his cheeks, through his fingers, and he can't stop the way his body seizes with each sob; he can barely breathe, he hates himself so much.

"Cat…"

If only he hadn't sent her ahead like that… If only he'd taken a closer look at the enemy, seen the javelin poised to strike, then she… she would still be here… Gods, why is he such a fucking fool?! Why couldn't he see something like that, realize that it was a bad move? There's no margin for error in his occupation. He knows this, and he has to stay up to par; he has to meet the expectations, because so many are relying on him and if he missteps once, it means death. _Extinction._

_"Cat…"_

But for all he knows, he could have done it on purpose. He can't be trusted, not with this creature lurking inside of him, eating away at his insides and always telling him to _kill, kill, kill. _Grima, Fell Dragon, Cat; he's Validar's fucking _son—_he has _no right _to be here in Chrom's arms…

He pushes against the other, weakly, but he's beyond words now; he can't even say it—_let me go—_because his breaths are coming in shallow gasps. Chrom has to understand, though; he has to understand that nothing good can come of this, that he's not _worth it, _and that the person Chrom fell in love with is nothing more than a _vessel, _a _puppet—_

_Monster._

_Freak._

_"Know your place, you little bitch!"_

"I'm sorry," Cat mumbles between ragged breaths, "I'm so sorry."

Chrom has no idea what to think right now, no idea how to react, what to do, because Cat is breaking down—_really _breaking down, for the first time—and there's nothing Chrom _can _do to make it better. He'd tried holding his lover, tightened his grip when the other had started pushing against him, but now Cat is hyperventilating, gasping apologies there's no need for, and Chrom isn't even sure if he's speaking to him or to some distant demon Chrom can't see…

"Cat," he says again, forcefully. The tactician just shakes his head, face blotchy, tears simply pouring down his cheeks. Neither of them have even changed out of their bloody clothes. Chrom grits his teeth and grasps both of the other's wrists, holding him close. "Cat, calm down."

He can't, though. How the _fuck _can he calm down when everything has gone wrong? What sort of leader is he? He's _worthless, nothing—_

_—and _he's_ going to be angry again, because he failed. If he can't even conduct a ritual like that, then what good is he? How can he ever make the perfect vessel if he can't open himself up and bare everything for the one he was made for? _

_Bitch._

_You're such a useless child…_

"Cat, it wasn't your fault…" Chrom's voice, soft, but determined, and his arms, once again wrapped around him. Cat takes a ragged breath, dimly aware of the other's scent, the feeling of that large, familiar hand in his hair. He clings to it. It's all there is; all he can rely on right now, the only thing holding him up, keeping him grounded.

He's here.

He's alive.

Panne is dead.

It's his fault.

Why is he alive when he's let down so many? What good is he?

"Chrom…" Cat shudders against him, but his name is something, at least. Chrom can feel his own eyes burning with worry and sorrow, and he can't handle it, seeing the other like this. Cat should never have to feel this way. Panne's death is affecting them all, and they'll never quite move on, but Cat shouldn't have to…

"Cat, please…" He tightens his grip on the other, burying his face in the tactician's hair. "Please. Calm down. It's okay…"

It's not okay. It will never be okay. But Cat blinks a couple of times, hiccupping pathetically, and suddenly, he's clinging to Chrom, fingers fisting in the back of his shirt, sobbing into the crook of his neck. It's not okay, he thinks, because it's all his fault, and he's _nothing, dangerous, shouldn't be here so close to Chrom when he can't be trusted…_

_I don't want to hurt you._

"Chrom," he says again—cries, "I'm sorry."

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry._

If he repeats it enough times, maybe he'll be forgiven.

"Shh." Chrom presses his lips together, trying to force down whatever is suddenly lodged in his throat. He can't right now. He can't afford to break down too, because Cat needs him. He needs to check on the Shepherds, he knows. He needs to make sure everyone's alright, make sure they understand that mourning aside, they have to keep moving, because the war is not over yet… Right now, though, Cat can't even hold himself together, and Chrom's too afraid to leave him, too afraid of what might happen.

Because he knows the tactician is taking this harder than anyone.

He knows he's been battling Grima for weeks, since he found out that the dark dragon lurks inside of him.

Cat doesn't understand how human he is, so Chrom has to be there for him, while he battles these emotions he doesn't think he should have.

Taking a moment to shift into a more comfortable position against the headboard of the bed, Chrom pulls Cat up against his chest again and lets him cry. Pale fingers clutch desperately at his shirt, and he can feel each tremor that runs through the other's body, because Cat is far from finished. He's far from okay.

And Chrom doesn't know if he'll ever be okay, doesn't know if he ever truly was. No one should ever have to do this; no one should ever have to cry themselves to sleep with such weight on their shoulders, and Chrom shouldn't have to figure out what to do. There's nothing he can do, he thinks. Not really.

She's dead and there's nothing that can bring her back.

Cat has to get it out now, because they won't have time to mourn in days to come.

* * *

**Okay. Don't ask me why I chose to kill off Panne.**

**I love her as a character, so it was emotional for me to write this. I also feel like as much as she claims to dislike humans, she could easily become a sort of mother figure for the Shepherds, so I guess I felt her death would really shake up someone like Cat. I dunno. At the same time, this chapter really has nothing to do with the fact that it's Panne who died. It's more about Cat finally breaking under all the stress of leading the army while dealing with his own screwed up past.**

**That aside; experimental. Entirely experimental.**

**Hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. This chapter will definitely be a standalone, guys, so don't expect a direct follow-up.**

**Thanks so much for reading!**

**Please leave a review if you can!**


	14. Morning

**I'm home sick, so I had time to write another chapter.**

**Not much to say about this one. I realized that the timeline of my drabbles is all screwed up, mainly because I've been having Lucina be a mainstay character far before she should've been. This takes place during the two years of peace in the middle of the game, and they don't find out Lucina's identity until after that. Yet, I've been writing her as if she was around before this... Whatever. Like I've said before, drabbles are drabbles are drabbles-you should take each chapter at face value by itself without trying to match it up with others. Only the arcs are actually connected.**

**Ah well; I do apologize for all the contradictions. Hope they don't bother you, but if they do, I dunno what to tell you, cause I never planned for Stumbling to even have a plot in the first place.**

**Anyway, that aside...**

**Enjoy!**

***Note: I don't own Fire Emblem, because otherwise, Heath would've had a way bigger role in Rekka no Ken.**

* * *

Their first time doesn't exactly go as planned, and they both regret it in the morning.

Sunlight filters through the uncovered windows, splashing across the large, canopied bed and making Chrom stir in his sleep. The first thing he's aware of as he slowly returns to consciousness is the persistent pain in the front of his skull. He feels as if he took the blunt end of an axe across the temple, and the way his stomach rolls only adds to his discomfort. When he opens his eyes, he only groans and closes them again against the gentle sunlight. Gods, what the hell is going on? He can't remember the last time he felt this terrible, and he takes a moment, with his eyes closed, to try to recall what, exactly, led up to this…

The last thing he can remember is… Ah, they'd been celebrating Gangrel's defeat. They'd only been back in Ylisse for a few days, and most of the army had hardly felt like celebrating with Emmeryn's death so fresh in their minds. Chrom had been no exception, but he'd known that a party was necessary in order to raise everyone's spirits, including the civilians'. The celebrations had lasted the bulk of the past two days, and Frederick—_Frederick, _of all people—had insisted that they go all out.

_"We have to let the men relax," _he'd said, _"Take a few days without worrying about anything, because morale will plummet when we hold the funeral." _

And of course, morale is important, even when the war is over… Chrom had understood, and forced himself to go through the motions of the festivities with a smile on his face.

They'd concluded with a sort of ball. Chrom can remember everyone being there, remember giving some sort of speech… and that's where things start to get fuzzy. Cat had disappeared at some point, he remembers, and he… he'd had a couple of drinks too many and gone after him…

Bracing himself this time, Chrom slowly opens his eyes again. The room swims into focus and he blinks, puts an arm over his forehead and takes a deep breath. _Shit, _is all he can think for a moment, _Did we…? _He's afraid to look to his left, afraid of who he'll find there… And really, he shouldn't be so concerned. He shouldn't… He likes Cat and Cat likes him, so even if they did, there's… He swallows. There's no problem, right?

Still, he feels like a bit of an ass. First times are supposed to be special. They're supposed to be gentle, and hold meaning, and they're _certainly _not supposed to be drunken escapades, nothing but fumbles in the dark and hot breaths over hot bodies…

_How naïve, _he thinks to himself, blandly. Finally glancing to his left, his suspicions are confirmed; Cat lies with his back to him, naked, covers lying haphazardly across his knees. Chrom can't help the way his body heats up, ears burning, because _fuck, _considering the fact that he's naked, too, there's really no other explanation… Apologies are already running through his head, and he desperately tries to think of something—anything—he can do to make it up to the other. Cat had been so reluctant, after all; so guarded, and he'd wanted to take things slow…

_Calm down, Chrom. _The lord presses his lips together and slowly sits up. _Okay. _He takes a breath. _Think about this logically. _He struggles to come up with some kind of excuse that will make it all okay.

_… It would've happened eventually, right?_

Now that he thinks about it, Chrom is most upset that he can't _remember _anything. It just won't count, he decides eventually. No, no… It shouldn't. He doesn't want it to… Groaning again, lightly, he wearily rubs a hand over his eyes and then looks at the sleeping man beside him again.

Cat's breaths are deep and even, his shoulders rising and falling, rising and falling… Chrom blanches a bit when he sees bruises on the back of the other's neck, some patterns that are far too reminiscent of teeth. He swallows, thickly, feeling sick to his stomach. _Gods, I didn't… I didn't hurt him, did I? _His eyes drift down the length of the other's body, and he bites down on his lip, hard. More bruises… Most of them are light, but there are some in certain places that are a dark violet against Cat's white skin. Chrom feels his stomach drop to rock bottom. Gods, this is… terrible…

He doesn't know what to do, then. There's nothing he _can _do, he thinks, nothing that will make things go back to the way they were. A large part of him thinks that he should wake the other up, but the rest of him is afraid to do so, afraid of how Cat'll look at him after something like this, how their relationship will have changed. Eventually, he scoots closer to the other, bracing himself on one arm and leaning over him, eyes shining with apologies. Cat's expression is just as relaxed as the rest of him. Chrom isn't sure what he'd expected—perhaps a look of pain—but this is a bit reassuring, at least. The lord reaches up with one hand, hesitates for a moment, and then touches the other's shoulder, lightly.

"… I'm sorry," he murmurs, leaning close so that his lips brush the space where Cat's shoulder meets his neck. It's his fault, he thinks; he hasn't even considered the possibility of Cat being willing, encouraging, even. The tactician stirs a bit under his touch, brow furrowing a bit, but doesn't open his eyes.

There's a creak then, and Chrom tenses, head shooting up a bit too quickly towards the source of the noise. He winces, but thinks nothing of it, because all of a sudden, _the door is opening. _For an instant, Chrom can't think; he can only feel a flare of panic he's not used to, because _really, _who the hell would just come into his room without knocking, at least?! There's no time for him to move, though, no time for him to even respond, tell the person to stop, and the next thing he knows…

A little maidservant is shouldering her way in with a laundry basket, not even looking at him. It's obvious that she thinks the lord is still asleep, which tips Chrom off that it must be early. Suddenly, he remembers that this is normal when it comes to palace life; at some point, he became accustomed to traveling, to the battlefield, and now it's so odd, to think that a servant would sneak into his room in the morning to do something as trivial as collect his clothes…

There's a moment of heavy silence as the woman stoops to pick up a discarded shirt. Chrom tracks her with his eyes as she picks up a few more articles of clothing, until she comes to Cat's black and purple overcoat; something she obviously recognizes as foreign. He sees it, the look of confusion that passes over her face, and then she finally looks up, light brown eyes meeting his piercing blue.

For a moment, neither of them moves. The maidservant's eyes widen, because Chrom is still on his elbow at Cat's side, the thumb of his left hand thoughtlessly rubbing the other's shoulder; protectively, apologetically—it doesn't matter. It's a bit funny, really, the look of shock that passes over her features as she takes in the scene; her king, lying naked with some other man…

Chrom's gaze hardens a bit. Scratch that; it's not funny at all. His gaze seems to dare her to say something, to react in some way, but she doesn't; she only stands there and stares, cheeks gradually taking on a red hue, the look of someone who's walked in on something they were never meant to see. Chrom doesn't know this particular maidservant's name—doesn't know anything about her, for that matter—so there's nothing he can really say, or do, to try to make things more comfortable. Finally, his lips part. He hesitates, and then speaks;

"You're to say nothing of this, to anyone." He tries to keep his voice firm, but not necessarily angry, though his heart is racing with worry that this could ruin everything. "… Understand?"

The servant doesn't respond for a moment, but then blinks, swallows, and nods. Chrom doesn't take his eyes off of her as she suddenly sets down the laundry basket and flees the room, pulling the door shut tightly behind her. Once she's gone, the lord lets out a long sigh and drops his head against Cat's shoulder. Ugh… He feels so incredibly guilty; hungover, and now worried sick on top of that. He thinks the maidservant will stay quiet—and really, such claims would be easy enough to deny—but he just… he just can't be sure…

Squeezing his eyes shut, Chrom focuses, for a moment, on Cat's scent; laced with something a bit sharper than usual, a bit muskier. Gods, he just wants to lie here with the other until his headache goes away…

"… Who was that, Chrom?"

The tactician's voice—however quiet—cuts through his thoughts. Ah… He's awake? Chrom goes still for a moment, eventually lifting his head and gazing at the other searchingly. That tone… It isn't angry, he thinks, which is something, at least, but it is guarded; wary, even. Chrom bites his lip for a moment, unsure of what, exactly, he should do. Cat hasn't pushed away the hand on his shoulder, though, so… eventually, Chrom settles down more comfortably against the other and ventures to slide his arm over his waist. It's a loose embrace; a bit hesitant. Chrom feels Cat tense for a moment before relaxing again, exhaling. It's a good sign.

"Just a maidservant," Chrom answers, breath ghosting across the other's neck, "She won't tell anyone." He has to say this confidently if he wants to believe it. He's silent for a long moment, biting his lip, hesitant. "… Are you okay?" he asks eventually, concern and guilt leaking into his voice. He feels as if he's treading on thin ice, and he's so afraid, so afraid that the other will push him away…

Cat just lets out a faint snort, though; exasperated, but relaxed, perhaps even a little bit amused. "I'm hungover and hurting in places I never thought I would hurt," he says, blandly. Chrom winces. "But I think I'll live." And with this, he lets out a sort of tired sigh, reaching back with one hand to pull Chrom's arm a little more securely over his waist.

The lord blinks, feeling Cat lace their fingers together, silently. He furrows his brow a bit, because the way Cat is talking… Is he really not angry? "… I really am sorry," the lord says again. He can't help it; he just has to keep apologizing. He really wants the other to know…

"Don't be," Cat says, without missing a beat, "No harm done."

Chrom frowns at that. No harm done? Aside from the bruises littering the other's body, that is… "But—"

"Chrom," Cat cuts him off, tiredly, in his no-nonsense tactician voice that forces the other to listen to him, "Really. You did nothing wrong. I was more than willing, so just… Let's just go with it, okay?" Because drunk or no, what happened happened; there's no use in glazing over it, especially when it'd been inevitable. Cat knows that Chrom had been wanting this to happen, and Cat had only been holding himself back because of the war, because of the many other things he'd had to deal with. He'd been pushing the other away for weeks now—months, even—so he could hardly blame the other for things getting a little out of hand… Still facing away from Chrom, Cat flushes just a bit. Plus, he can remember wanting it just as much as the other, at the time…

Chrom is still for a moment against his back, and Cat feels as if he should say something else, give him more reassurance, because above all, he just doesn't want the other to hesitate because of this. He's not something fragile that Chrom should be afraid of breaking… and for that matter, neither is the bond between them. Cat opens his mouth to say something else, but then stops, feeling the other move, nuzzling, slightly, into the crook of his neck. Chrom exhales, lips pressed against his skin, and Cat knows what he's going to say before the words leave his lips;

"I love you."

And suddenly, everything seems a little bit lighter.

Gangrel is dead.

The war is over.

They can afford a few drunken escapades and mornings in bed.

Humming slightly, trying to ignore the persistent pain in his skull, Cat squeezes Chrom's hand just a bit with his own. "I know," he says. The next words are something he's always had trouble with; something he's always been afraid to commit to, afraid to make real, because really, how can he truly know? It doesn't matter anymore, though—who he is. It doesn't matter, so…

"I love you, too."

… he'll allow it, the embarrassment and naked truths.

For the first time since waking up in that field, Cat feels is if he's right where he belongs.

* * *

**Okay. So I'd been trying to figure out how Chrom and Cat's first time would play out... and of course, I wanted it to be something sweet and perfect; all emotional and stuff like that. But the more I thought about it (and the more scenes I attempted to write), I just couldn't see it going down so ideally. It just didn't seem realistic to me... So I ended up with something like this. I don't know if this is realistic, either, but I'm going with it for now.**

**I've been trying to give you guys more smut for the past few chapters, but none of them have come out very smutty, lol. Dunno why, but I'll try to deliver soon.**

**That aside... Review replies, since I haven't in a while;**

** Arc-san: Haha, I guess you were right with chapter eleven being foreboding, considering what went down in chapter thirteen. Anyway, don't worry about your reviews being short sometimes; my replies are short too, if they're even there at all. I'm glad you enjoyed the angsty chapter; I was really kind of worried that it was too disjointed and overdramatic, but people seem to like it, so I'm glad! Thanks for the continued support!**

** Cerul: "Chrom's badonkadonk..." I'm dying of laughter right now, not even kidding. And yes, I'm in the same boat as Cat, as well; the beach is just ugh. And ohmygods, I would cry tears of joy if someone drew fanart of Chrom and Cat. I've been doodling them in my spare time, but none of my drawings are really worthy of being posted. Anyway, that aside, yes, you got your follow up, hm? And I am sorry about the mood whiplash, lol. Anyway, glad you're enjoying it, and thanks!**

** Yubelchen: Ah... Cat... and catnip... Oooh, I'm getting some really impure ideas right now, ehehe... That aside, though, thanks for reading! Holeh crap, it's crazy to think I have readers in Germany! **

** HikariNoTenshi-san: Oh, so you would like to see neko!Cat? Hmhm, well, there's one upvote... I'll think about it some more... Thanks for reading!**

** Divine Judgment: IKR. I really just couldn't picture Cat and Chrom developing a sexual relationship very quickly, considering all of the tension surrounding their romance and their stations as commander and tactician of an army. It just... seemed to idealistic. Perhaps that was part of how this chapter was born? What do you think of it playing out something like this? Anyway, thanks for the support!**

**And thanks to all of my other readers! It means a lot to me that you read, and even more when you review!**

**So please don't hesitate to review, dears~**


	15. Unexpected

**Still home sick. Ugh.**

**But whatever; that means more writing time, yeah?**

**I decided to tackle the whole Morgan thing. This is definitely the first part of an arc. Let's call it the 'Morgan' arc, cause I'm creative like that. Oh, and by the way, I hate female Morgan for some reason, so I just went with male Morgan. I also altered his appearance and everything, but I'm going to try to stay mostly in-character with his personality (cause I love his personality). Why? Because I'm an author with god powers; because I ****_can._**

**Also because if Cat was female and ****_actually _****paired with Chrom, Morgan would be male anyway.**

**Not much else to say here.**

**Enjoy!**

***Note: I don't own Fire Emblem. If I did, I'd be releasing old titles digitally like nobody's business.**

* * *

Cat has a son.

_Cat has a son._

With the same stark black hair against stark white skin, the same angled features and fragile wrists… It's unnerving, because when Chrom looks at him, he feels like he's looking at his lover, eight years younger; Cat, from another time and place, a past Chrom will never know of, never understand. The most defining difference would have to be the eyes; Cat's are sharp, black as night, while his son's are a softer, warmer forest green. Something from his mother, Chrom thinks, and feels his stomach churn, uncomfortably.

It's not fair, he knows, for him to be bothered by it. It's not fair, because Cat has had to see Lucina for weeks already. Before, Chrom had only been able to imagine what it felt like to see a child with his lover's face—something they'd never be able to have, between the two of them. Something unobtainable. Now, though… Now, he's highly aware of how his chest rebels against him, how he has to force a smile on his face and hope it comes out genuine.

It's not Morgan's fault. Chrom knows this, and he's sworn not to hold it against the boy. And as it is, he can't be angry at Cat, just as Cat can't be angry at him—because really, neither of them have even _done _anything yet. That doesn't leave any outlet, though, other than himself and his body, hours spent alone in the training pit, shadowsparring until he wants to puke.

It's not anger, he thinks. He just doesn't _understand._

Cat's been having an even harder time of it, he thinks. It's been obvious from the moment they met that the tactician has no idea what to think of the boy. Chrom wants this to be something happy—for them, at least—but he fears that's too idealistic. What's someone supposed to think, after all, when they suddenly discover that they have a child they never wanted?

Though Chrom pauses at that thought, every time, snagging on the same delicate question;

Does Cat want a child? A family? Something Chrom would never be able to give him; his own flesh and blood…

The lord doesn't know the answer. He doesn't know the answer, and it bothers him; it's not that he tried to overlook it or glaze over the facts, it's just that he truly never thought… He never expected something like that, never saw the solitary tactician as the type to long for a family to call his own. When it comes down to it, though, he's suddenly afraid that he wasn't looking hard enough, wasn't noticing things that he should've, taking the other into account. Because Cat is an enigma, and even Chrom hasn't entirely figured him out.

Suddenly, he feels as if he's missed something important.

It's irritating, and he doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to feel any more guilt.

Slipping out of his tent, he goes to find Cat. He's not entirely sure what he's thinking, or what he's feeling. He knows it's nothing hostile—nothing angry—but the heat in his stomach is heavy and potent nonetheless. It's just that he wants to talk to the other; he wants to see him, and reaffirm things, and make sure that he's not the only one confused, the only one who sees anything wrong with this situation.

The tactician isn't in his tent, which is strange at this time of night. Chrom hovers in the doorway for a moment, eyes roaming over the empty room. He's been wanting to sleep in the same tent as the other for a while now, but hasn't found the right excuse yet, the right lie to feed Lissa, and Frederick, and all of the others who don't know about them. Cat feels the same way, he knows, but agrees that there's nothing to be done.

Taking a deep breath, Chrom moves on. He checks the training pit next, and then the stables; Cat spends time in both of these places, on occasion. There's only Say'ri in the training pit, though, and only horses in the stables, so Chrom moves on, brow furrowing just the slightest bit. It's late, so he doesn't expect the other to be in the mess tent. When he checks there anyway, his suspicions are confirmed. By now, he's actually a bit irritated, because _really, _where _is _he?

Cat takes walks on his own sometimes, he knows. _Gods, if he wandered off this late, he's going to get an earful from me…_

Then it occurs to him, though, and Chrom stops, lips parting;

Cat has a son now.

He'll be spending time with Morgan, for one reason or another.

The thought makes him frown a bit. Not anger, he reminds himself. He's not angry, and he's not placing the blame on anyone—if there's any blame to place. He just wants to make some things clear.

Chrom takes a moment outside the mess tent to compose himself, flattening his hair a bit and adjusting Falchion at his belt. He takes another deep breath, hesitates, for a moment, suddenly, but then shakes his head and starts in the direction of the new recruit's tent.

Morgan's tent was set up close to Cat's, purposefully, and Chrom feels more than a little daft for not checking it sooner, all things considering. When he gets there, he pauses outside the doorway, hesitating again, having second thoughts. Now that he's here… Now that he's here, he's not entirely sure what he even wanted to say to his lover… and _what, _exactly, is he supposed to say to _Morgan? _The boy already knows him, to some extent, but only in passing as the leader of the army he's joined. Chrom doesn't know how he feels about that, doesn't know what he should expect from the other, if anything…

They're not a family, he thinks. They never will be.

Shaking his head slightly, to clear it, Chrom swallows his doubts and calls out to the other; "Um… Hello? Morgan?"

There's silence for a moment, from inside the tent. Chrom thinks he hears the faint sound of voices, and then a muffled thump. A half-second later, the door is pulled aside, and Chrom is faced with those endlessly familiar features, those jarring eyes that just don't belong. Morgan blinks at him for a moment, face blank, and then smiles. "Ah… Chrom, right?"

From behind him, Chrom hears a voice; "That's _Sir _Chrom, to you, Morgan." The lords eyes drift upwards, focusing over the boy's shoulder. Sure enough, Cat is standing behind him, giving the pair a narrow, slightly wary look. A half second passes in which Cat's eyes flicker from Morgan, to Chrom, bright and questioning, searching. _What are you doing here? _

Morgan throws a laugh over his shoulder, light and carefree. "Yes, yes, father."

_Father._

"Did you need something, Sir Chrom?"

Chrom blinks as his gaze slowly focuses on Morgan again. Suddenly, Chrom's forgotten why he came here, isn't even sure if he had a reason in the first place. What did he think would happen? Had he been planning to tell the boy? Speak with him? Find out more about him, as if he has some sort of interest in him? As if he wants to be more than just his commander… _Tch, _talk about naïve. Chrom swallows, awkwardly. "Ah… I was just looking for Cat. Do you mind if I… borrow him for a minute?" And he hates it, hates the way he has to ask for permission…

Morgan tilts his head to the side slightly, inquisitively, and Chrom can see it, before the other says anything; _Gods… he has that same damnable curiosity… _"What do you need with my father?" The question itself is innocent enough, and it's not voiced with any suspicion, just genuine curiosity. Still, Chrom feels his face heat up a bit.

"I just need to… talk to him about something," he manages, in a relatively normal tone.

Morgan is silent for a moment, and the way one eyebrow slants inwards… Well, that _is _a suspicious look. Chrom suddenly feels like a bug pinned for observation; Morgan, it seems, has inherited his father's scrutinizing gaze, his ability to assess people at a glance. It's another thing he'll have to get used to, Chrom thinks, but for now, it's just downright uncanny. Finally, the boy concedes with a nod of his head. "Sure…"

He steps aside, and Cat approaches them, eyes still flickering between his son and his lover. As he slips through the door, he gives Morgan a small smile that Chrom's never seen before; something hesitant, but optimistic, searching, and nervous, but affectionate, nonetheless.

They've grown a bit closer, Chrom thinks, and it's really no surprise.

Outside, Chrom takes Cat's hand without even checking that they're alone. The tactician frowns a bit, but lets himself be dragged around the corner, to a more secluded space between Cat's tent and the outer camp wall. There, the lord drops the other's hand and turns, face carefully guarded.

Cat speaks up immediately, because he knows what the other is going to say; "Listen, he doesn't _know, _Chrom." His brow is furrowed; not angry, but a bit worried, because this is _serious…_ "He can't—"

The lord cuts him off there, though, leaning in and capturing his lips, sealing his breath between them. Cat's eyes widen, simply because he hadn't been expecting it, and for a moment, he can't make himself respond, caught between the desire to push or pull, break or kiss back. This is hardly the time, he thinks vaguely, as Chrom shifts a little closer, one hand snaking around his waist. It's hardly the time, but… _Ah…_

He's always been prone to caving when Chrom takes control like this.

The kiss swiftly deepens into something more than that, Chrom nipping lightly at Cat's lip as his hand slips up into the other's hair. Cat gasps, reflexively, face flushing as the lord takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into the equation, and the next thing he knows, he's been backed up against the outer wall, pinned between Chrom's body and the cool night wood. The tactician's hands find their way to the front of Chrom's shirt, clutching, a little desperately, and for a moment, it's enough to make him forget about everything else. He can sense it—Chrom's desire—and beyond anything carnal, it's for something he's familiar with;

Verification.

Affirmation.

Cat feels a little bit guilty, though he shouldn't, but that's okay.

This can't drag on for long, he knows, because Morgan's waiting for him. Nonetheless, he tilts his head a bit and slides his hands up to Chrom's jawline, letting the other's tongue delve deep inside his mouth. Hot and demanding; a statement to what they both know, what they'll never quite be able to express in words.

And that's when they hear it, Morgan's voice;

"… Well, this is unexpected."

Suddenly, Cat's finding it incredibly hard to breathe.

* * *

**Generic walk-in-on-makeout-session, I know but... Come on. It's ****_Morgan. _****You knew he'd follow them. **

**Chrom's all conflicted. I think he has a very possessive side I haven't properly illustrated yet. Just so you know, Cat's also the jealous boyfriend type, hehe.**

**I feel like there was more I wanted to say here... Huh. I forgot. Well, I will say that next chapter will consist of Chrom/Morgan bonding. Morgan's frakking awesome. Just. So frakking awesome.**

**(I also like to think that he's Mark from FE7. Because crazy headcanon ftw.)**

**That aside, I'm not gonna respond to reviews, since it hasn't been that long since my last chapter, and I thus don't have a ton to respond to.**

**Thanks so much for reading, and please drop a review if you can!**


	16. Pieces

**This chapter was hard for me to write for some reason.**

**I promised Chrom/Morgan bonding, but that didn't quite happen. I might end this arc here, or I might tack on one more piece... It can work either way. We'll just see.**

**I can feel the angst, guys. It's calling me.**

**Anyway, enjoy this!**

***Note: No, I don't own Fire Emblem. I just write fanfiction of it, cause I'm a champion like that.**

* * *

Even when they gather in silence in Morgan's tent, Cat still feels as if he can barely breathe. The air is somehow stifling, even though it's nearing winter, and all he can hear is his heartbeat, his own blood pumping behind his ears. The same words are playing through his head, over and over; _He knows, he knows, he knows. _Morgan _knows._

Morgan. His _son. _

Cat's fairly certain he's the worst father ever… which is saying something, considering he's only been a father for a few days. To think that his… his _son _saw him and Chrom… Ugh, Cat feels ill just thinking about it; twitchy, and uncomfortably hot. He doesn't want to face the other like this; he wants to disappear, to avoid all of these pesky _relationships _that have somehow wormed their ways into his life. He knows that he has to, though; he has to set things as right as he can, or he'll lose Morgan before he ever really had him…

Already, the boy has become something special. Something that's a part of him, and defines him, and he's reminded of it each time he sees that face.

Swallowing, Cat stares at the dirt floor, hands clasped tightly together. Chrom is sitting to his left, and Cat knows without looking that his face is an incredible shade of red. He wishes he could appreciate this flustered side of the lord more, but at the moment, he's just worried. It's not that he blames the other—though technically, it is Chrom's fault—it's just that… Chrom isn't very _tactful. _

Morgan sits across from them on a little wooden crate, legs crossed, cheek propped up on his palm as his eyes flicker between his father and commander. His expression is fairly blank, save for a wide-eyed curiosity. Cat glances at him, but it's still difficult for him to read anything in that expression, so for a long moment, they sit in considerably awkward silence.

The silence grows heavier as seconds pass. Cat tries to think of something to say, some way to explain himself, but he's drawing a blank. How the hell is he supposed to do this, anyway? They don't cover 'How to Introduce your Gay Lover to your Kid' in the parenting book he borrowed from Sumia. Eventually, he forces himself to blink and lift his head a bit, lips parting. "Um…"

He doesn't get to continue, though, because Morgan chooses that moment to speak; "So… You guys are doing it?"

There's more silence; this time it's stunned. Cat suddenly feels as if his face is on fire, because gods, what type of child did he raise?! He flounders for a moment for some kind of answer, but Chrom steps in; rather, leans a little closer to Cat.

"We're… in a relationship, yes." The lord's face is also a flustered shade of red, but his tone is relatively calm. Cool, Cat thinks. Collected. Right… Taking control and explaining things like this is something Chrom is good at… _Wait, wait, but what's with the straightforward answer?! _Suddenly, the thought of denial flashes through Cat's mind; he somehow feels as if he's dirtying his son, exposing him to something that's… well, no matter how you look at it, a little bit scandalous.

He swallows again and forces himself to interject; "We… We've been seeing each other," he clarifies, though he's not sure how it's different. 'Seeing each other…' Sure, for a few years. It's an understatement, and Chrom sends him a narrow, sideways glance, but Cat can't take it back now. "I… wasn't entirely sure how to tell you," he concedes, shifting gears.

Morgan quirks one eyebrow, but then smiles, crookedly. "What, that my father is gay?" Cat stares at him as he lets out a light laugh. "Yeah, I guess that's even out of your field of expertise, dad."

_Dad. _The word has a certain effect on Cat; it lets him breathe a little easier. Well. Morgan is still calling him 'dad'. That's something, right? Still, though, Cat is confused, because somehow, Morgan seems _way _too relaxed about all of this. "You're not… upset?" the tactician ventures finally, in a small, hesitant voice, because he really, _really _doesn't want this to screw things up. He just… He doesn't know what to do, and he's not used to it; he's sick of all these puzzles he can't solve.

Morgan frowns a bit, in confusion. "Upset?" he echoes, "Why would I be?" And then he smiles again, and all Cat can think is, _Damn, it's bright. _"No way. I think it's awesome that you're so _passionately _in love with someone."

_'Passionately?' _Cat feels himself flush again at the light jab, but presses his lips together and shoves the embarrassment away. For a moment, he can't really comprehend what Morgan has just said. He's… He's not upset? At all? He thinks it's _awesome? _Cat can hardly believe it. Have they… really been accepted so easily?

It seems a little too good to be true. And yet as Cat looks at Morgan—sees the light in his eyes; ever present, but now shining brightly—all he can think is how lucky he is to have such an understanding son.

_Blessed, _he thinks dimly. Is this a blessing? And if so, who should he thank? Naga? Or Grima, the dragon whose mark dances on his skin?

_It doesn't matter, _he thinks. Doesn't think.

He still hasn't said anything in response… Slowly, though—very slowly—he feels his lips curling into one of those small, genuine smiles. This one's reserved for Morgan, he thinks, and no one else.

Beside him, though, Chrom speaks up; his voice is quiet and guarded, perhaps a bit heavier than it should be. "Your… mother…" It's a wavering, unfinished question, because he's still seeking his affirmation.

Morgan blinks once before glancing away, understanding flashing over his features. Ah… Yes. That is… something to think about, isn't it? Cat straightens a bit and casts Chrom a guarded look before focusing on his son again.

"Ah… About that…" The boy rubs the back of his neck, awkwardly. "To be honest… I can't really remember much about her…"

Cat's eyes widen a bit at that. _Amnesia?_ he wonders. Like him? Another similarity, something marking that they're the same; _proof. _Morgan goes on quickly, though, and Cat's no longer so sure;

"I mean, she was really great!" It's said with such force and confidence and Chrom furrows his brow; not out of anger, but confusion, and perhaps a bit of grief. No child should have to convince themselves of that. Morgan drops his gaze again, though, shoulders drooping a bit. "I just… It was just the two of us, most of the time." And when he looks up again, his smile seems a little forced. Chrom thinks it's too similar to the ones Cat would always wear, back when he first joined the Shepherds and didn't know how to laugh. "Just me and you, father. You taught me everything I know."

And Cat feels a pressure, somewhere in his throat. He stares at the other for a moment, unsure of what to think, or how to react. Morgan… can't remember his mother. This fact settles heavily in his stomach; so he still knows nothing of the woman who bears his child, aside from that her eyes are a warm, forest green. It's an odd feeling; not love, or longing, but he feels as if he's lost someone he never even knew.

_Some day, _he thinks. But he isn't sure if he wants it to come. He isn't sure what awaits.

Perhaps unconsciously, he shifts a little closer to Chrom. All of his attention, though, is focused on Morgan, and on the words the boy has just said to him; _"You taught me everything I know." _And he's _proud, _he realizes suddenly, because aside from the fact that he's a little less innocent than he should be, Morgan has turned out just fine. Better than fine, for that matter. Sure, there's a slightly shifty light in his eyes, and his smiles are a little bit too thin, but _those, _he thinks, are things they can work on; together.

Smiling again, Cat leans forwards with his hands on his knees. "And I'm sure there's still plenty that I can teach you," he says, in a light voice. Then he looks at Chrom with half-lidded eyes. Relaxation; forced, perhaps, but there nonetheless, and in time, it'll become natural. In time, they'll get used to this, and maybe even lapse into that routine that seems so far out of reach.

_Lucina, _Cat thinks suddenly, and whishes she would be a part of it.

For now, though, they'll have to make do with what they've got. "For that matter, this one can help you polish your swordplay. Isn't that right, Chrom?"

The lord blinks, a bit caught off guard, and looks from his lover's determined gaze to Morgan's bright eyes. The young tactician is giving him this sort of curious, hopeful look. Ah… What? The conversation turned so suddenly, and Morgan just rolled with it… Chrom doesn't have any complaints, but… So he's… he's doing this now? Treading into that unknown territory, becoming something to this person he hardly knows. It's a bit intimidating, but…

It's Cat's _son, _and suddenly, Chrom just doesn't want to miss the opportunity. He's silent for a moment, but then offers a warm smile. Whether or not he reaches out his hand is irrelevant; the sentiment is the same. "Sure… Just don't think that I'll go easy on you."

And just like that, things have fallen back into place. The puzzle is not incomplete so much as it's grown larger; picked up one extra piece, and Cat's okay with that.

It belongs.

* * *

**Dying... of... sappiness. **

**No guys, really. I can't handle all of this family bonding time; it makes me want to bleh. Things went far too well, but then... I just really wanted to give Cat and Chrom a little hope that they won't have to lurk in the shadows and/or be hated by everyone close to them for their relationship. Plus, it's _Morgan. _I think he'd be very okay with this, as long as he knows his daddy's happy.  
**

**The ending was abrupt and weird, I know. I worked on it for a while, but I just lost my way with this piece. Ah well.  
**

**So I'll admit that I've been writing a neko!Cat arc for the past couple days... I asked this once before, but only like one person answered; Seriously, do you guys even want me to post that? Or do you think it was just ruin this somewhat serious fanfiction?**

**That aside, I'm not going to do lengthy review replies, but here're answers to some questions some of ya'll seem to have;**

**No, Lissa is ****_not _****Morgan's mother. No, no-I don't like Avatar/Lissa at all. If you must know, Morgan's mother is an OC who would come in after the ending of the game. I might write more about them later.**

**No, I don't do MPreg. I just think that my males should stay fully male, and the subject of childbirth (and Cat and Chrom's inability to ever have a child of their own) is heavy, and should be taken seriously. No offense to people who write MPreg; I just don't really agree with it as a concept, because I think it kind of disregards the complexities of a gay relationship.**

**No, there's no different between the personalities of male and female Morgan, as far as I know, but then, I haven't had a female Morgan in my game yet.**

**I don't know how to get a picture from my 3DS to my computer, but I'll try to upload some sort of reference pic of Cat soon. He basically looks like default Avatar, but with slightly narrower eyes and black hair. He's a bit more asian-looking; I think his mother was perhaps foreign, so he looks different from Ylissians, and even Plegians. He also has ear piercings; I can't remember if default avatar has that, but I like earrings on guys, so yes. Deal.**

**And finally, I had no idea that Avatar/Robin could be Mark from FE7. I'd only heard the Morgan theory. I still like my Morgan = Mark headcanon... but that is fascinating nonetheless.**

**... That was a lot of 'No's...**

**I love you guys, I really do. It means so much to me to have such a devoted reader following!**

**Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a review if you can!**


	17. Choice

**Finally a new chapter. I don't know where this one is going, whether it'll become an arc or anything, but whatever. It's just very drabbly.**

**On the subject of ****_the choice _****in the game...**

**Cat and Chrom fight a lot more than they'd like to admit.**

**Not much else to say. Enjoy!**

***Note: I don't own Fire Emblem. If I did, there would be a freaking full body portrait of the avatar's outfit (seriously, trying to find cosplay reference pics is killing me).**

* * *

"Cat," Chrom says, trying very hard to keep his voice steady, "Look at me."

He's standing in the middle of the other's room, arms hanging uselessly at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling with all of the tension seething beneath his skin. The air is heavy with everything Cat isn't saying, and Chrom can't handle it, can't handle the loneliness that comes with being shut out like this. He'd thought that he'd broken down all the walls around the other—or at least managed to slip through the cracks—but now Cat's as silent as he was when they first met, face a guarded mask. He's just sitting there at the little desk in one corner, and he won't even give Chrom so much as a glance.

He needs a glance right now. He needs to feel the other's eyes on him, to hear his voice; he needs Cat to reassure him, somehow, to tell him that everything's going to be okay.

Everything's going to be okay, Chrom thinks. It has to be.

But Cat still won't look at him, eyes half-lidded as they gaze down at the papers strewn across his desk. Strategies, as always. Chrom has never hated the sight of ink so much. "Cat," he says again, in that same forced tone, "Don't you dare make this decision on your own."

The tactician knows exactly what he's talking about, but doesn't give any sort of response aside from a slight press of pale lips. _Chrom, _he thinks, _I'm sorry._

"At least talk to me about it..."

Cat leans over the desk to dip his quill in the ink pot. "There's nothing to talk about," he finally answers, and he wants that to be the end of it; he wants Chrom to leave him alone so he can stop putting up this front and _breathe_. But of course, he knows that's too much to ask for right now. _Selfish, _he thinks. He's so selfish.

Chrom bristles. "Nothing to talk about?" he demands, sharply, raising his voice without meaning to. He catches himself and pauses, taking a deep breath and averting his eyes for a moment. Calm, he thinks. Collected. He has to be. He can't, doesn't want to be angry at the other. They can't have something like anger between them right now; no, no, but _dammit, _doesn't Cat _see?_

Chrom sees. He knows the other too well, knows exactly what he's thinking, and that's why he has to hear him speak, hear some confirmation that he's still here, and that he _won't. Promise me you won't… _He swallows, thickly, and when he feels a little more in control, he goes on, in a quieter tone; "Cat… This isn't your choice alone to make."

"Whose choice is it, then?" the tactician counters, a bit icily. He still won't look at the other, but his quill is still on the paper, and his voice holds an uncharacteristic edge. "Are you telling me _you _should decide my fate?" And here, he finally looks up, eyes hard; chips of jet set in war-weary sockets. No, he thinks, blandly, he's had enough manipulation. This is _his _choice to make, Chrom, _please…_

_Please don't make this any more difficult than it has to be…_

The lord seems a little taken aback for a moment; he falters and stares, suddenly feeling like there's a weight in the pit of his stomach. How is he supposed to answer that? _No, but… _He swallows again and makes an attempt; "That's… That's not what I'm saying. I just wish you would _talk _to me about it…" He grimaces, feeling another flare of irritation. "You're not the only one who will be affected by this," he adds, sharply.

_Because you're not alone anymore…_

That triggers something in Cat. He stands, suddenly, and takes a step towards the other. Chrom can't recall ever seeing such a fiery look on his face, and he knows, immediately, that he's stepped over some boundary, broken some sort of unspoken rule. Cat feels as if the room is too hot, and dammit, Chrom just won't _understand. _"You think I don't know that, Chrom?" the tactician demands, harshly, "You think I'm thinking of myself here? Trying to make myself feel better? Or have you even thought about the thousands of people who have died in this war already; the thousands who _will _die when Grima rises again?!"

Chrom feels his face heat up; flustered, furious, and sinking, despairing… He hasn't felt this way in a long time, and he moves towards the other, gesturing, exasperatedly, trying to make him understand that he doesn't have to do this. He's done enough already... "There will always be wars, Cat!" he retorts, almost shouting, "You can't save everyone!"

_So stop trying to do this. Please… Don't…_

He feels something rising in his throat, sees an eagle in his mind's eye. No, he thinks. He's been through this once already, and he won't be able to handle it a second time. He won't be able to handle it if Cat… _Gods, no…_

The tactician doesn't see it, though, what Chrom is saying. The answer is so painfully obvious, so overpowering when you look at things objectively, and that's what strategy is all about; objectivity. He can't… Cat won't let his emotions get the better of him here, he can't, so he shuts down any doubt that flares at the expression on Chrom's face. "I can try," he says, voice low as he casts his eyes to the ground, "I have to try."

He has to, because he's already let too many die, and it'd be all his fault…

Chrom feels something inside him snap. He grimaces, chest constricting painfully. No, no… Cat can't think this way. He can't… No one can save everyone; Emmeryn tried, and she… He cuts that thought off there, though, and grits his teeth. "Cat…" He says the other's name again, moving towards him without really thinking. "You can't…"

And he reaches for the other, tries to touch his face and force him to make eye contact, but Cat flinches away, taking a step back and lowering his head a bit.

"Chrom," he says, in a thin, wavering tone. Suddenly, the fight seems to have left him, but he doesn't want to be touched, shouldn't be... The lord feels as if he's been frozen in place. "Please don't make this any harder than it already is…"

And he's _afraid. _More afraid then he can ever remember being. Who wouldn't be, with their imminent death looming over them? This isn't easy for him, and he doesn't feel at peace with it, or gratified by it, he just… he just knows that he _has _to, to make up for everything, because Grima is him and he is Grima, and gods, he's done terrible things, even if he can't remember. He can feel it in his bones, and he hates himself. He _has_ to; otherwise, 'Cat' never really existed…

_I'm sorry, _he wants to say, _I'm sorry, and I love you, but I…_

"I have to do this."

The words hang there for a long moment. Eventually, Chrom drops his hands and shifts his weight, pulling back a bit and gazing at the other. He feels as if his stomach is twisting itself into a knot, and the more he looks at the other—the more he hears those words, over and over, inside his head—the sicker he feels; closer and closer to that point where he thinks that' he'll break.

Don't do this, is all he can think. Don't do this, don't do this…

_Don't to this to me. _

He feels as if he can barely breathe, and he wants to do something terrible. He wants to scream at the other and make him understand; the people of the present are just as important as the people of the future, and Cat doesn't have to. He doesn't _have _to, and he shouldn't, because Lissa will cry, and Morgan will lose the only parent he ever had, and all of the others—Frederick, and Tharja, and Stahl, and Libra, and everyone else—they've all grown so much closer to him than Cat seems to think. They _care._

_Please…_

But he can't. Chrom can't say any of this, and Cat has shut him out again; Chrom can't even see his eyes from where they're hidden beneath his bangs. He doesn't have, to, though; he knows that Cat has made his decision.

The walls are up, and Chrom's afraid he'll break if he stays here any longer. He's afraid he'll tear them down by force and do something he'll really regret.

_Cat, don't you understand what you're doing to me?_

So when the silence has stretched on too long, and Chrom feels as if he's about to suffocate, he leaves. His last words are the slam of the door behind him, and Cat's left there in the middle of the room, hands hanging uselessly at his sides.

* * *

**Entirely mediocre... but a chapter nonetheless. I wanted to give you guys something to tide you over. I've kind of hit a minor block with this story, but I'm going to push my way through it.**

**Neko!Cat arc is still in progress. I'll post it when the entire arc is finished.**

**Anyway, thanks to all my reviewers. Just so you all know, I'll generally just reply to questions in reviews from now on, because I could express my gratitude many many times over, but instead, I'll just try to thank you guys with a new chapter, yeah?**

**But yeah, Morgan just seems like the type of boy who would... ahem, know about that stuff. And be totally okay with it. Plus, I don't think anything could make him disapprove of his father, and I just wanted to give Cat and Chrom a bit of happiness in their otherwise angst-riddled lives.**

**That aside, I'm seriously trying to write some smut between these guys, but it keeps turning into angst, or fluff, or whatever else. God, I just put too much plot into this shit; next chapter, I'm going to try to give you guys some mindless sexy time, okay?**

**Thanks so much for reading, and please leave a review if you can!**


	18. Flashes

**New chapter. Remember how I promised to give you guys sexy time? Yeah, no; that didn't happen. Whatever.**

**Just another drabble, this time, on the subject of the protagonist's headaches.**

**Takes place around the middle of the game, when the gang is traveling to Valm right after the two years of peace.**

**Cat's memories are starting to resurface here, and I'm just kind of exploring his relationship with is past self, Grima, and his current self.**

**Enjoy.**

***Note: Nope, I still don't own Fire Emblem. If I did, all of the freaking games would be out in the US already.**

* * *

His headaches only get worse as they get closer to Valm. Cat tries to use sea sickness as an excuse at first, seeing as how he can't remember ever traveling by boat , but it's a lie, and he and Chrom both know it. He's fine most of the time, after all, and when he does fall ill, it's always with the same skull-splitting migraine and the same flashing, disjointed images.

It's the images that get to him the most; the memories.

The more Cat sees, the more he doesn't want to remember. He feels as if he's slipping away, somehow, and he doesn't want that to happen.

Chrom leaves him be at first. Cat doesn't want him or anyone else to worry, so when the lord catches him clutching the railing of the starboard deck one morning, he takes a deep breath and tries to compose himself through the haze of pain. Chrom sees it, of course—the agony still etched into his face—but when he tries to ask Cat if he's alright, he gets nothing but a curt reply; "I'm fine."

Fine.

He's anything but fine, but Chrom decides to let it slide this once. He recognizes the resolved look on the other's face, and knows how stubborn Cat can be, so he just stands there in awkward silence, fighting the urge to reach out to him. No concern, he thinks. Cat doesn't want him to worry about him, and Chrom can understand that, to a certain extent. Worrying seems to be taboo between them, because there's so much else they're supposed to be focused on that they simply can't afford it. _Don't worry about me._ _Don't overwork yourself._ They can say these things without words now, anyway, so just this once… Chrom lets it slide. Cat eventually exhales, shakily, straightens, and asks Chrom what, exactly, he needed. They don't speak of the headache again.

That is the first time.

Chrom isn't around the second time Cat's struck with crippling pain. The migraine, coupled with a sudden lurch of the ship, sends him sprawling down the last few steps below deck. Sully finds him there a moment later, curled up, gloved fingers fisting in his dark hair. It's only when she says something about getting Lissa that Cat's able to force himself upright, leaning heavily against one wall. "There's no need," he says, in a clipped voice. Sully says something incredulous and chastising in response, but Cat ignores her and starts making his way towards his hammock to lie down.

He hates it because he has things to do. He has to be in top form because there's an army relying on him, and he doesn't have _time _for this agony…

The third time is the worst so far, and it's where Chrom draws the line.

The lord has just walked into the dining room—which the captain agreed to let them use as they see fit—when he hears something shatter to his left. His eyes immediately flicker to the source of the noise, and his breath catches at the sight; Cat leans shakily against the wall, doubled over, clutching his skull with one hand. There's glass on the floor from where he apparently dropped the cup he'd been using, and Chrom feels as if something's squeezing his heart, seeing the other like this. He can't… He can't just sit here and watch this time; he wants to do something, _anything _to help ease the other's pain.

There's a faint noise from Cat; strained, and frustrated, and laced with agony. He sounds like something dying, and Chrom moves, immediately, to be at his side. "Cat?" he asks, nervously and worriedly, and he doesn't care if he's breaking their rule, because whatever this is, it's _serious. _"Cat, are you okay?"

It's a stupid question. Cat's eyes are squeezed shut, and he can't even hear Chrom, can't see him. He gasps, suddenly, as the memories wash over him;

_Darkness, and an altar; violet fabric draped over black stone. Cat has no idea where he is, or why he was brought here, or what, exactly, is going to happen, but… he knows it's nothing good. He clutches his mother's hand as his father turns to him with a smile. "You know that you're special, don't you, Cat?" _

And then there's a flash; suddenly, he's not in the dark room anymore. His parents are arguing, and Cat thinks that this must have happened many times;

_"You can't just force something like this onto a five-year-old child!"_

_"He's not just any child, Lim! Don't you see? He's the one; the one who will bring Lord Grima back to our world!"_

_Cat can hear them, but he can't understand; he lies on cold dirt, breathless and fighting back tears. His chest hurts; a sharp, stabbing pain on the right side of his ribcage. It feels as if something is broken._

_"Look! Look at what you've done to him! You can't be so hard on him when he can barely wield a sword!" Mother's voice; Cat tries to listen, though he wants nothing more than to just go to sleep._

_"Shut up!" And father is angry now. Isn't he always angry? "If he can't handle this much, then he's no good, anyway…"_

And in the next memory, he's crouching in a dark space. He can feel his mother's warmth to his left, though he can't see her face.

_The air is heavy and smells of salt. It smells as if something has died, Cat thinks; he feels as if he's inhaling blood. "Where are we going?" he asks his mother, but she hushes him and puts a hand over his mouth. No speaking, she means to say. He has to be quiet. Cat's still not entirely sure why, but he can feel, somehow, that they're in danger. The darkness is too soft, wavering when he wants it to be absolute. He doesn't associate darkness with anything but pain, but somehow, it's comforting, nonetheless. Natural._

_It doesn't matter where they're going, he thinks suddenly. It doesn't matter._

_He's just glad that his father isn't with them._

Back in the dining room, Cat lets out a broken groan. He can't recall ever being in this much pain; there's no real way to describe it, aside from as blinding, and deafening, and right now, all there is is him, the agony, and the memories flashing slipstream across his mind's eye. _Mother, _rings over and over inside his head. Mother, mother, mother… The name that Validar called her by burns brightly in the darkness; _Lim. _Lim? Cat clings to it, because even through the haze of the migraine, he wants to remember this. Only this. Lim… His mother… He wants to remember; he wants to see her face, and it's so close…

"Agh—!"

But it's too far, and Cat's knees buckle as the agony intensifies. Chrom catches him under the arms, reflexively, though he feels as if they're both still falling, stomach heavy with panic. "Cat!" He says the other's name again, voice high with worry, because this seems so much worse than before. He doesn't know what's going on, or how to fix it, and it's terrifying, because Cat suddenly looks fragile like glass. When the tactician doesn't respond, just leaning against him and gritting his teeth, the lord swallows, thickly, and shifts to try to pick him up.

It's easier than he'd expected, because while Cat's not totally insubstantial, he does weigh less than he probably should. _Overwork, _Chrom thinks, and grits his teeth, _Not taking care of himself. _He suddenly hates their unspoken rule, and decides to throw it away; of course he's going to worry when Cat's in this state—he _should _worry. Hooking one arm under the raven's knees, the other around his shoulders, he hefts the other bridal-style and staggers towards the door.

_Damsel, _sounds in his mind, vaguely. Chrom wants to smile, but with the look on Cat's face, he can only bite down on his lip in worry.

Cat's dimly aware of what's happening now. He's decided to stop trying to remember, because the harder he tries to connect _Lim _to a face, the more his head screams at him; _stop, stop, stop. _Now the pain is fading, slowly, though he's dizzy, and nauseous, and _gods, _if only everything would stop _lurching. _He's never had any particularly strong feelings for ships, but now he's starting to hate them; the constant movement does nothing for his headaches. As he regains some of his senses, he's suddenly aware of the strong arms holding him; Chrom's scent, heady, familiar.

"Chrom," he says, weakly, both hands still pressed to against his skull. He opens his eyes, but even the dim interior of the ship is too bright right now, so he closes them again with a low groan.

Chrom looks down at him, exhaling in some relief, because the lines in his face are a bit softer now, if nothing else. "Hey," he says, as he shoulders open the door to his cabin, "Hold on…" He sets the other on the bed, gently. Cat feels a bit faint, but fights it back, and forces himself to sit up against the wall. When he makes another attempt at opening his eyes, he can't help but wince at the glow that seems too bright.

"Light," he complains, softly, and puts a hand over his eyes.

The lord furrows his brow for a moment, but then realized what the other is talking about. He quickly moves to douse the oil lantern, letting darkness fall over them.

And just like that, Cat's able to breathe a little easier. It's odd, and entirely unnatural, he thinks dimly, for shadows to have this sort of affect on him, but right now, he can't bring himself to care. The darkness is soft, and comfortable, and Cat somehow feels at home.

Something foreign stirs inside him, rolling over lazily in his chest. Cat grimaces, and takes a deep breath, but when he opens his eyes for the third time, he's able to keep them open. Not right, he thinks. This isn't right… but it doesn't matter; all he wants right now is for the pain to go away, and if a lack of light will make that happen, then he'll bury himself in ink. Sitting up straighter, he shifts to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning over with his elbows on his knees, his head resting in his palms.

He's aware of Chrom, and of the faint creak as the lord sits down next to him. The lord wants to say something, he knows, but Cat isn't sure if he wants to hear it; he's not sure if he can handle talking to anyone right now, when Validar and Lim are still so fresh in his mind. Chrom eventually breaks the silence, though, hesitantly; "… Are you alright?"

Cat gives a sort of broken laugh into his palms. "I've been better," he confesses, dryly, and… Ah, now that he's heard the other's voice, he actually feels a little less terrible. He feels grounded, and decides that he wants Chrom to stay, after all. He wants the distraction, because he shouldn't be thinking, and trying to connect Validar and Lim to anything further will just make the hovering migraine come back, so…

_Chrom, _he thinks, _Focus on Chrom._

The lord swallows again, pressing his lips together. This is all unnerving to him, and hs just wants to understand what's going on. Why is Cat suffering like this, and beyond that, why… why the dark? Why now? Because it seems to go beyond the simple sensitivity of a migraine. Now that Cat's speaking and breathing evenly, Chrom ventures to ask; "… Should I turn the light back on?"

The other's reply is quick and absolute; "No." Cat shakes his head, wincing, and straightens just a bit. The door is closed, and considering there are no windows, the room is practically black. Still, though, his eyes are adjusting, slowly; he glances to his left and sees Chrom's profile, inches away. "I… No," he repeats, in a somewhat softer tone, and hesitates for a moment before scooting over a bit and leaning against the other. He's not thinking right now, doesn't want to. He knows he's acting strange, but can't bring himself to care.

"I'm sorry," he says, in a quiet voice, "But can we… can we just stay like this for a minute?"

Chrom's a bit taken aback, and looks to his left, searching the darkness for the other's form, Cat. He can't see him, though, even though they're so close, so all he has is the voice, and the weight. Some part of him wonders if it's enough, hears the word _Grima _echo in his mind, but he shoves it away, because that's not what he needs right now. Cat is here, he thinks. This is Cat, and he's suffering, and Chrom will do whatever he can to make it better.

He wants to ask the other what, exactly, just happened. He wants to ask him if he's okay, over and over, and drag him to a healer to be examined, because _shit _headaches should _never _get this bad. He wants to _worry, _but…

"Sure," he says after a moment, softly, and slides his hand up around Cat's shoulders to hold him a little more securely against his side.

They're both clinging to him, he thinks; this person named 'Cat'.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! I haven't really had a lot of romantic scenes between these two... it's all just been rambly, or angsty, or whatever else. Ah well.**

**I don't have a whole lot to say. I'm kind of done with the whole planning of arcs thing. I keep looking at the neko arc, and I intend to finish it, but we'll see.**

**Anyway, thanks again to all my supporters, and please leave a review if you can!**

**Now I must sleep.**


	19. Spell

**Hello, all. New chapter (couple chapters, actually, maybe even more if I get to writing more tonight).**

**This one is horribly short, but I don't really care, because it's all just a set up for this arc...**

**That's right, guys. The "Neko" arc is finally here. Brace yourselves, and please don't expect any real plot, characterization, or quality from this arc. It's just me being a silly teenager and writing something ridiculous, and it's also a break from all the angst I've been having lately. Think of it as like... a crack arc. **

**No but really, I'm sorry for the silliness and poor quality. Just... take it at face value, okay? **

**Last warning; THIS ARC IS PURE STUPID JUST BE STUPID AND ENJOY IT AND DON'T COMPLAIN TO ME ABOUT THE STUPID.**

**So without further ado... enjoy the shenanigans.**

***Note: I don't own Fire Emblem, because if I did... this would probably be in a DLC for Awakening.**

* * *

Amongst the Shepherds, there are some facts that are known by all; Lon'qu is terrified of women, Sumia can trip over thin air, Sully should never, _ever _be in the kitchen, and Tharja is completely and utterly obsessed with their tactician, Cat… To the point of being more than a little creepy. Cat himself isn't exactly sure what to think of the dark mage's infatuation; it definitely makes him uncomfortable, considering he's… well, _seeing _someone, publicly or not. Aside from that, he's never been interested in women, and he feels just a little bit bad, knowing that he'll never be able to give Tharja what she wants.

His guilt is negligible, though, compared to the genuine annoyance he feels when he catches the other spying on him… and the uneasiness that comes with all of her dark, longing looks. Usually, he just tries to ignore her, because really, what else can he do?

Tharja, as it is, is not an idiot, and she's been tailing Cat long enough to know that she really, _really _doesn't have a chance with him. It's infuriating, because he just doesn't seem to _understand _it; their bond is deeper than any human love, going beyond physical attraction or surface-level trust… Every time she sees him steal away to some shady place with that _protozoan, _Chrom, she feels her chest clench up with burning anger, her palms bleeding from where she's clenched her fists too tightly… She's tried to make Cat see by… conventional means—she really has—but he just _refuses, _and that _bastard, _prince or no, doesn't _deserve _him—!

She's been told, in the past, that she has problems holding grudges. Overreactions, people have called them, but they just don't _understand. _

Cat belongs with her… They're perfect, because they both hold the same darkness inside them, even if Cat doesn't know it…

Eventually, she decides to resort to more drastic measures. What choice does she really have? She'd told herself that she wouldn't cast any sort of spell on the other—that she'd get what she wanted through more… shall we say, _honest _means, for once—but after exhausting every method of seduction, she only has one choice left…

_I'll cast a love spell on him. _She grins as she sets up the altar in her tent. It's a shabby, makeshift thing; all stolen bedsheets and mismatched candles, but it'll have to do. She was able to steal a goat from one of the nearby pastures; it's not human blood, but it'll work in a pinch. The vital ingredient here is Cat's hair, after all; it'd been easy enough to sneak into Cat's tent and pluck it from his pillow… The ritual itself is something she read of in a book—something foreign that Henry lent her, unsuspectingly. The procedure doesn't seem too complicated in and of itself, though the book warns that one misstep can result in any number of odd effects… Tharja doesn't worry about it, because she is an _expert, _after all.

Once everything is order, she carries out the ritual in solitude. The small space within her tent is lit only by the sputtering candles, the silence broken only by her whispered chants. The air is heavy within the magic circle she opened on the dirt floor, and when everything is said and done, she's left with a small vial full of ink black liquid. It's doesn't exactly look like a love potion, but then, dark magic had its own ways, its own mysteries… Tharja is sure that she did everything right, so there's no need to worry. She'll just sprinkle some on Cat as he sleeps, and in the morning, he should be hers…

She grins and lets out a dry chuckle, holding the bottle close as she closes the circle and snuffs out the candles.

She's so excited she can barely stand it. Perhaps, she thinks, her heart will even burst out of her chest…

But no, no… None of that yet. She's not finished; Cat isn't _hers _yet, so no dying… Slipping the vial carefully into a sack on her belt, she slips out of her tent into the dead of night.

* * *

**There you go. Just kind of a prologue. Tharja's character is fun to write, and I intend to come back to her POV. The next chapter is just Cat and Chrom, though; I'll pretty much switch chapters with each scene change.**

**Thanks so much for reading, and sorry this chapter took me so long to get around to posting.**

**Please leave a review! Please, please, please! Reviews are like candy for me! Or cookies! Or delicious, crispy apples! I love apples... So basically, I live off of reviews, so take the time to leave one if you can, and I'll keep writing for all you wonderful supporters!**


	20. Cat

**Double update!**

**Getting into the "Neko" arc here. I predict this arc will have... two, maybe three more chapters. That should be enough fluff and silliness to tide ya'll over for a while, right? We'll see.**

**Anyway, not much to say, aside from to reiterate my previous warning; there is nothing high quality or serious about this arc. Just enjoy it for the stupidity, please.**

**No, but really, don't even take this arc seriously.**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

***Note: Still don't own Fire Emblem. And I need more FE jokes guys, for real. Um... Well, I probably would've actually played the older games, if I did.**

* * *

When Cat wakes up, he notices that something is very wrong.

He first becomes aware of it because of the sounds; everything is sharper than usual, ringing, persistently, in his ears, and it makes him wince, burying his face deep in his pillow. When that doesn't work to cut off the noises, though, he lets out a groan, rolling over onto his back. He doesn't know what time it is, but he's not used to be woken like this, and gods, he just wants to sleep. He can't though; not with the sharp whinnies of the horses and the din of early morning voices in the mess tent. He can even hear _Kellam, _for Naga's sake, though he can't quite make out the knight's soft spoken words.

Something's wrong, he thinks, dimly. He feels sick. There's an odd pressure on his head, and at the base of his spine; something tender, but not necessarily painful. Nonetheless, it's worrisome. Gritting his teeth a bit against the din of noises, he opens his eyes. Ah… His vision is off, too, he notes right away. It's sharper in clarity, but at the same time, colors are muted. Cat squints and raises a hand to rub at the bridge of his nose.

What's wrong with him? He can't help but be a little alarmed, because really, he'd been fine just yesterday. Is he just overtired? That doesn't make any sense, though… But then, what sort of strange illness is this, to have such specific symptoms? The tactician feels his stomach drop a bit at the thought of being ill. No, no… He can't afford to be sick right now. Not when they're in the middle of a war, when he has an entire army relying on him for direction…

Sitting up, slowly, Cat shifts his hand to rub the back of his skull, ruffling his hair… and that's when he feels it; his fingers brush something soft, and he feels himself twitch, somewhere, in response. He pauses, eyes widening. Gods… What… What _is_ that? There's something on his head… and for a moment, he's caught by a sharp panic, as well as a dim curiosity. There's a part of him that doesn't want to explore any further; no, better to just let the healers take a look at it, because Cat might just not want to know. At the same time, though… Cat eventually swallows, trying to stay calm, and moves his hand to gingerly feel the top of his skull.

There is, indeed, something fuzzy. Two somethings, actually, and Cat can _feel _when he touches them; they're light and sensitive.

He pauses, a sort of dim recognition settling in his stomach like ice.

Are these… ears?

… For a moment, he can't think. He can't really wrap his brain around it, but… then he touches the appendages again and his suspicions are confirmed. Yes, he answers himself, faintly. They are ears. Cat ears? The tactician can't help but pull a face at that, because _gods, _he can hear the jokes already. But no, no… This is serious. What the hell is going on?

Shaking his head a bit, Cat pulls himself to his feet. It's then that he's reminded that his _head _isn't the only thing that feels different. _Please, _he thinks dimly, _Oh _please _tell me I don't have a tail… _When he stumbles over to the mirror, though, his suspicions are confirmed. For a long moment, all he can do is stare, dumbstruck, at his reflection; his usual self, but now sporting a few extra appendages that just… _shouldn't _be there. A pair of fluffy, black ears sit atop his head, and it's unnerving, how they twitch a bit whenever he thinks about them; affirmation that they really _are _a part of his body. And as if that isn't enough, a matching, black tail is curling behind him, sticking up over the waistband of his pants…

This is… really wrong, Cat thinks. There's just something… really wrong about this.

For a moment, he's finding it difficult to breathe. Okay, he tells himself. Calm down. This isn't that big of a deal. Whatever the _fuck _is going on, it can be fixed. They have healers, and… and mages. _Mages. _Gods, Cat's already suspecting a certain someone, but he really can't think about it right now, really can't worry about anything aside from the fact that _holy shit, _he has a fucking _tail. _

He opens his mouth to say something, ask some sort of rhetorical question or reassure himself aloud, but all that comes out is a sort of high-pitched meow.

_Meow._

Cat feels himself flush up to his ears, because gods, no, that sound did _not _just come from him. There's something more serious about this, though, something that _really _sets him into panic mode. _Don't tell me… I can't even speak?!_

And then, quite suddenly, there's a voice from outside his tent, familiar and magnified; "Hey… Cat, are you up yet?"

_Chrom, _Cat registers immediately, and panics. Oh shit. No, no, no, Chrom is the _last _person he wants to see him like this. He steps away from the mirror and looks around for a moment, frantically, for something, _anything _to cover himself with. Chrom won't wait long, he knows, because he has no qualms about invading Cat's personal space, so as it is, the tactician only has time to yank a blanket up from his bedroll, draping it over himself as a makeshift cloak.

He's going to look ridiculous, he knows, but not as ridiculous as he feels.

Chrom, as expected, doesn't wait long for an answer before pulling aside the tentflap and poking his head inside. "Cat, it's already nine… aren't you…" He trails off there, eyebrows arching as he takes in the sight before him; Cat, wrapped up in a blanket, crouching in a far corner of the tent. For a moment, there's just an awkward silence. "… Cat?" Chrom ventures finally, voice somewhere between amused and concerned, "Are you alright?"

Cat opens his mouth to respond, but cuts himself off quickly before he can make any more undignified _feline _noises. Pressing a hand against his mouth, he slowly turns to peek out at Chrom from under the blanket, eyes bright with panic and more than a little embarrassment.

Chrom gives him an incredulous look from his spot in the doorway, forcing an awkward smile. Something in Cat's face must tip him off, though, because his brow furrows further in obvious concern. "Um… Cat?" He asks again, and ventures further inside the tent, letting the door close behind him. "… What's wrong with you?"

_Always tactful, aren't we, Chrom? _Cat swallows, thickly, and looks around helplessly for some kind of excuse. He should tell the other, he knows… especially considering he can't _speak, _because he'll need his help if he's going to fix this. And yet, he still…

As he hesitates, Chrom's face goes a little blank. He stares at the other for a moment, but then moves closer, crouching down beside him. The look he gives Cat is flat and searching; still concerned, but also unamused. It's a look Cat knows well, because he's given it to the other on plenty of occasions; their shared _don't lie to me look. _"… You're hiding something," the lord says.

_No shit!_

And then Chrom actually _pouts _a little, reaching towards him. "Cat…"

Cat starts to shuffle away, reflexively, face heating up, because _oh no, _he recognizes _that _look. Chrom catches him by the arm though and pulls him in towards his chest, immediately reaching for the blanket draped over Cat's head. A small scuffle ensues; they're like a couple of teenagers playfighting in the dust. The tactician struggles, and lets out a rather undignified yelp; he'd meant it to be a, "_No," _but it comes out as more of a, "_Nya." _Chrom pauses, eyes widening a bit, and stares at him strangely.

_Nya?_

The lord ceases his attempts to pry away the blanket, but keeps Cat held securely against his chest, nonetheless. The tactician is smaller than him, and fits a little too neatly in his lap. This is a passing thought, though, and Chrom swallows, tilting his head to the side. "… Cat?" he asks again, and he's really starting to worry now, because the other has never acted this way before, "Really, what's wrong?"

Cat just looks at him, though, and Chrom thinks that he can actually see some tears glistening in the other's eyes; not truly despairing, but hot and flustered. It makes him swallow again, thickly, stomach dropping, because as cute as the tactician's bitten-lip, shiny-eyed look is, it's _not _something Chrom wants to see. He'd figured that something was wrong, but now he knows that it's serious. He takes a breath and rubs the back of the other's neck with one hand, calmingly. Okay… He'll just have to try a different tactic, then. "… Let me see?"

And Chrom asks it in that small, hopeful voice that Cat's always been terrible at resisting. The tactician lets out a small groan and looks away, cheeks pink. Gods, this is just… so _embarrassing. _Cat's not entirely sure why, but it is, and he just… feels so _weak _right now. He can feel his tail curling nervously around his thigh, brushing against the blanket.

He has to tell Chrom, he thinks. He has to…

So taking a deep breath, Cat gives a reluctant nod and finally, _finally _lets the blanket slip down around his shoulders.

There's silence for a long moment. Cat stares stubbornly at the floor, still perched in Chrom's lap, and tries to tune out everything he can hear. Chrom, as it is, is having a hard time processing _what, _exactly, he's seeing. The two fluffy ears are flattened against Cat's head, trembling a little bit, and Chrom just stares at them, eyes wide. … _Eh? _is all he can think for a moment, and he's silent, trying to comprehend _What the…_

And then he reaches up, without even thinking about it, taking hold of one of the silky, black appendages. "Are these… ears?"

Cat flinches at the contact, looking up with furrowed brows and batting the other's hand away. He opens his mouth again to give an exasperated answer—Because _yes, _dammit, what do they look like?—but all that comes out is a low, slightly distressed _myao. _Flushing again, Cat covers his mouth and averts his eyes. What the hell is with these noises? What sorcery is this?!

Suddenly, Chrom's feeling as if the room is a little too hot. He stares at the other, one arm still linked loosely around his midsection, trying to comprehend the fact that _Cat _is sitting here on his lap with _cat ears _and… Gods, he has a _tail, _too? Chrom's highly aware of how the fluffy black appendage has slipped out from under the blanket, tickling the side of his thigh. The way the other's blushing up to his ears and shifting nervously on top of him really isn't helping the situation, either, because… _Shit. _Chrom feels his own face burning and has to look away, bringing a hand up to cover it.

He's… he's _adorable. _Almost too cute to handle, and Chrom has to fight back some rather improper desires that are suddenly gathering in the back of his mind.

This is bad, he thinks. This is hardly the time. No, no… He can't get swept away by his weakness for small, fuzzy things right now. They need to figure out what the hell is going on. So, Chrom takes a deep breath to try to compose himself. He's only mildly successful, but he looks at Cat again nonetheless, eyes flickering between the tactician's distraught face and flicking ears. "You… can't speak?" he asks quietly, concernedly, and swallows when Cat nods. This is… This is really problematic. The lord looks around for a moment, at more than a bit of a loss. For some reason, he's reluctant to let go of the other; while Cat's still intact, he somehow seems… vulnerable… and Chrom's natural protective instincts flare at the sight of him in this state.

The tactician catches on to what he's looking for after a minute and leans over, crawling out of Chrom's lap and stumbling towards the table in the center of his tent. His balance is a bit off, he notices suddenly. The tail will take some getting used to. _I'd really rather not have to get used to it. _Pressing his lips together, Cat grabs a loose leaf of paper from amongst his many strategic notes. He returns to Chrom with it, a quill, and a little pot of ink.

_I just woke up like this, _he writes quickly, a bit frantically, _I have no idea what's going on._

_Smart, _Chrom thinks, vaguely, and nods a bit to show that he's read. "You were feeling fine last night?" he asks, focusing on the piece of paper. He can still see the other's tail swaying hypnotically out of the corner of his eye, though. _Fight it, _he thinks, though he wants nothing more than to grab the fuzzy limb and see how the other reacts.

Cat nods. _I felt fine. I can't remember eating anything strange, either. _Ha… As if eating something could cause a transformation like this, anyway. Cat hesitates for a moment. He still feels panicked and unsure of himself, but now Chrom's here, and he knows, and that's a comfort in itself. Glancing at the other, he scribbles down something else, as an afterthought; _I do have… one idea…_

Chrom blinks at him, raising an eyebrow. "… Yes?" he asks, when Cat doesn't continue right away. He's raking his brain for any sort of explanation. This seems like some sort of magic, but then, Chrom has never known anything about that.

… _You know Tharja, right? _

Chrom's eyes narrow a bit at the name on the paper. He goes still for a moment, and then seems to deflate a bit, sighing. Tharja… Oh yes, he knows Tharja. He knows everyone in their army, of course, but he's definitely… noticed things about the Plegian mage. Namely, the way she constantly fawns over Cat; always batting her eyelashes at him and following him around when she thinks no one is looking... Chrom can't help but feel possessive. He has a right to, he thinks, and of course, he'd never let it get in the way of anything important. However, _that _level of open infatuation is… just not acceptable. So the answer is yes; he has a rather strong opinion of Tharja. "You think…" He pauses for a moment. "You think she cast some sort of spell on you?"

Cat lets out a deep breath. His right cat ear flicks once, twice, and then he scratches it, and bit irritably. Chrom realizes, suddenly, that he still has his human ears, as well. How does that even work? _It's possible, _the tactician writes finally, _It's possible that something went wrong. I don't know why she'd want to turn me into a cat._

A number of rather personal reasons run through Chrom's mind. He forces a cough into his hand though, and looks away, red faced. "She was probably trying to cast a… love spell on you or something," he mutters under his breath, not even bothering to pretend that the words don't leave a bad taste in his mouth.

Cat looks at him, ears flat, a sort of reluctant agreement playing on his features. It's only a hypothesis, but… it is possible. _I feel like this is some sort of black magic, _he writes absently, _I don't really know, but… I can't think of any other magic that could do something like this. _Seeing the still-bitter look on Chrom's face, he lets out a small sigh that's closer to a mewl. He bites his lips once, but then shifts suddenly, sitting cross-legged beside the other and leaning into his side.

_Don't be jealous,_ he wants to say, but can't quite make himself write the words. Chrom knows, anyway, he thinks; they can't afford to get all territorial over one another. Tharja's fascination with him… rather, _obsession _with him, is unnerving, sure but… this is the first time something so absurd has happened because of it. It's a problem, but Cat doesn't want Chrom to start anything.

So he leans against him instead, to show him he has nothing to worry about on the love competition front. He doesn't really know what he's doing, but he has to do _something._

Chrom blinks, and looks at him, features softening just a bit. It's an awkward gesture, to be sure, but it's undeniably adorable, too; Cat's mannerisms were rather feline already, so seeing him like this… it's amusing, in its own way, beneath being concerning. There's a moment of silence, and then Chrom shifts a bit, taking Cat's hand and intertwining their fingers.

"You'll hate me for saying this, but…" He smiles as he nuzzles the top of the other's head, nose brushing one silky ear. "… It does kind of suit you."

Cat freezes, and Chrom can practically feel the heat from his blush. The lord chuckles, lightly, trying to put Tharja out of his mind. Oh, he knows he's pushed a button there. He goes on quickly, before Cat can smack him or scribble flustered nonsense on the paper. "Shall we talk to Henry about it?" he suggests, trying to think of anyone else in the camp who might have knowledge of such dark magic… mishaps. Henry's an odd one, but Chrom thinks he'll be trustworthy for something like this. Pulling back a bit, he fixes the other with an inquiring gaze to dampen his previous heat.

Cat glares for a moment, cheeks still painted bright pink. He hasn't let the 'suit you' comment go, Chrom thinks, and he probably won't anytime soon, but he apparently decides to set it aside, because a moment later, he gives a small, reluctant nod. He doesn't want too many others to know, and he knows that the lord of aware of this. _Just Henry, _he thinks, because they don't really have much of any other choice.

* * *

**And there you have it; the second part of the "Neko" arc. Just more setup and some Chrom/Cat fluff (there will be more fluff to come).**

**Next couple chapters will visit our favorite dark mages. Guys, I really love Henry; I can't wait to write him.**

**Anyway, other than that, I'm basically winging this arc. If you have any neko!Cat/Chrom shenanigans you want to see, feel free to drop them in a review, and I might include them in the story (that goes for any other serious prompts as well, guys).**

**Thanks so much for reading! Double update complete! **

**Please, please, please drop a review with your thoughts on the story!**

***Also, holy crap, guys, 'Stumbling' is now twenty chapters long and almost 40,000 words (excluding author's notes). This is just cray; I don't write this much of anything. If only I could motivate myself this much with my original writing... Ah well, I enjoy this, and the feedback I get from you all, my lovely readers, makes it all worthwhile.**


	21. Cure

**Triple update! Part three of the "Neko" arc.**

**Don't... ask me what happened here. Just don't.**

**I have no idea how Henry came out like this... very passive-agressive, but hopefully still with that childlike speech pattern and whatnot? I just... don't know. It's been a while since I actually played the game... Just please don't kill me for OOCness in an arc this ridiculous.**

**Henry might kind of have a thing for Cat, in his own twisted way... I don't know. I don't. Just. Go with it...**

**Enjoy!**

***Note: If I owned Fire Emblem, Henry would have his own like... miniseries. I feel like he could make a hilarious miniseries... like little five minute anime episodes all about Henry... Yes. I fucking love Henry.**

* * *

The smile Henry gives them when he pulls back the door of his tent—or rather, the smile that's _always _etched into his face—is somehow far from reassuring. Chrom's always found the guy creepy, to be perfectly honest. It's not as if he's done anything to hinder them—on the contrary, the dark mage has been quite the asset to their little band of soldiers—it's just that… there's something inherently _off _about him. It has to do, he thinks, with the fact that _no one _should look _that _happy while slaughtering their enemies. Not to mention the time that he decided to 'experiment' on a Risen carcass… Chrom shivers a bit outside the mage's tent, just at the memory.

Cat, on the other hand, seems hardly perturbed by the mage's ever-unfaltering smile. In fact, he seems completely at ease in the other's presence. Well, not _completely _at ease; he's still stiff-shouldered and nervous, but that's due to the fact that he's trying to keep his new _tail_ from peeking out from under his cloak. His ears, as it is, are concealed beneath the rather deep hood of his trademark garment, though Chrom can't help but notice the way they make little… lumps beneath the thick fabric.

It's not funny, he thinks. It's really not…

And yet once he notices it, Chrom has a hard time of looking away.

Henry, thankfully, serves as a distraction from his lover's new, rather comical appendages. "Mister Chrom," he greets, grinning at the lord, and then tilts his head a bit at Cat. Chrom thinks that he sees something pass over the dark mage's face then; some sort of recognition, but certainly no concern. Henry gets a slightly perplexed look on his face, though it's shallow and hard to read. "And Cat the… cat?" he says eventually, and chuckles a bit, as if he's made some sort of joke—which he has, but dammit, Chrom hardly thinks it's appropriate. "How good to see you both," he continues. "Can I do something for you?"

There's a moment of awkward silence. Chrom thinks that Henry's looking at Cat, expectantly, though it's damnably difficult to tell with those squinty Plegian eyes of his. The lord eventually clears his throat, stepping to the other's aid. "We… need your help with something," he says, getting straight to business. This isn't a courtesy call, after all. "We need your help with a curse."

And at the word 'curse', Henry's entire visage seems to brighten; he's like a child who's just received a gift, Chrom thinks, or like Gaius at the mention of candy. It's just plain weird. Henry's grin threatens to split his face. "A hex this early in the morning?" he asks, eagerly, and then laughs again, in that off-key way of his, "How exciting! Tell me, do you want it to be a slow, painful death, or something quicker? Or maybe you're just looking to embarrass someone? I know quite a few tongue-tying tricks that are sure to ruin anyone's day…"

Chrom cuts in there, awkwardly, raising a hand. "Ah… No," he says, bluntly, "Actually, we need your help reversing a hex." And here he looks at Cat, catches a glimpse of the other's eyes flashing beneath his hood. The tactician swallows once, but then nods, confirming. "Can we… come in?" Chrom continues.

Henry blinks at them both, and seems to pout a bit, smile finally giving way to a sort of pinched look. "Aw…" He tilts his head to the side again, poking his own cheek, thoughtfully. "Pity. Well, sure, I can help with that, I guess." Thought he seems largely unenthusiastic now, he steps aside anyway, letting the pair slip into his tent.

It's not as freaky as Chrom expected it to be, thankfully. There aren't any altars drenched in blood or pig heads set against the wall. However, there are a number of dark leather books scattered about, and more than a few sinister vials sitting on a little table in one corner. Where Henry gets the stuff for his experiments, Chrom neither knows nor cares; he just leaves the guy be in return for his services, which have been more than helpful in the war so far. Helpful enough for him to even call him trustworthy. Creepy, but… trustworthy… When it comes to professional matters like this, anyway.

Yes, yes. They're not here to chat, or get to know each other, Chrom reminds himself. They're here to deal with the matter at hand.

Cat stands awkwardly in the middle of the tent for a moment as Henry moves towards his cluttered desk. He looks to Chrom for some kind of explanation, but Henry beats them to it, talking over his shoulder as he clears a little space on his desk. "So, is this about the extra body parts?" he asks, conversationally, pulling an empty vile over and muttering something foreign under his breath. With that done, he turns back to the two of them, all smiles and innocence, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

So Henry could tell… There's more silence. Chrom feels strange, but knows that he has to speak for the other here, so he eventually nods, slowly. "You should take your hood off, Cat," he says, quietly. The tactician nods and pulls the hood down around his shoulders, revealing the two shiny black ears. Chrom can't help but smile a bit at the way his brows draw together. He's shy, and it's adorable… but he has to stay focused, he knows, he knows… "He's seems to have a tail, too," Chrom continues, "And…"

"… He can't speak," Henry finishes for him, crossing the room in a few strides to stand before Cat. The tactician doesn't flinch back from the other, but has to forcibly keep himself in place as Henry reaches up to tug, experimentally, on one ear. It's not that it's _Henry, _it's just that that _feels so odd… _Cat presses his lips together, tail flicking behind him, and then gives a small nod.

Henry's smile brightens too much. He chuckles again, and then pat's Cat twice on the head. "Heh. You're pretty cute like this, aren't you, Kitty Cat?"

_Kitty Cat._

Chrom has to press a hand against his mouth, turning away quickly in an attempt to conceal his laughter. He feels torn about it, really, because, woah, woah, Henry better not get _too _friendly, but… the nickname is just… It's exactly what he'd been thinking, but hadn't had the courage to voice.

And for good reason, too, he thinks. Cat bristles, immediately, brow furrowing inwards as his face takes on a rosy hue_. Gods_, the tactician thinks, _If I didn't need you right now… _And if only he could _speak. _As it is, though, he doesn't want to drive away his only chance at a cure—hell, even he's not that prideful—so he can only stand there, embarrassed beyond belief. Henry just laughs even harder at the look on his face, and tugs again at Cat's ear, until the tactician can't take it anymore and pulls out of his grasp. Cat looks at Chrom, imploringly.

The lord has recovered, thought his lips are twisted into a strange shape. Ah… Right… Right… "Um… Yes, that's what we were coming to you about." He takes a breath and straightens, trying to retain Henry's somewhat sporadic attention. "He just… woke up like this, apparently. We were thinking that perhaps… _someone _had messed up on a spell." He doesn't say any names, but Henry isn't stupid. The dark mage grins widely, good-naturedly.

"Yep. It was Tharja," he says, matter-of-factly. Chrom and Cat glance at each other, a bit taken aback by the quick verdict, but then Henry moves, suddenly snatching a hair out of Cat's head and moving towards the empty vial he set up before.

Cat lets out a small noise that makes Henry giggle. Chrom steps forward automatically, glancing between the two of them, curious and concerned; weirded out, but also somewhat amused. "Uh… Henry?"

"Give me a second," the dark mage says, dropping the strand of short, black hair into the empty bottle, "This won't take long. Two seconds, and I can tell you exactly what she was trying to do, and hopefully how to fix it." He trails off, focusing intently on the little strand of hair, though his lips keep moving, muttering something silent. Chrom exchanges another look with Cat, who's rubbing the side of his head, a bit woundedly, but neither of them wants to interrupt the other when he's like this, so they stand there in awkward silence until he's apparently finished.

It takes more than two seconds, but less than a minute, and then Henry blinks, turning and smiling at the two of them. He holds up one finger, as if he's about to reveal some sort of fantastic medical breakthrough. He's not, but Cat and Chrom wait with baited breath.

"So…" Henry begins, slowly, and then chuckles faintly. No, no… No point in taking things slow. He wants to see the looks on their faces. "Tharja was trying to cast a love spell on Cat."

Chrom presses his lips together and rolls his eyes a bit. _Yes. Tell me something I don't know. _Though it seems like a stretch that Henry could tell that from something so quick… But then, Chrom knows nothing of dark mages and their ways. Cat doesn't question it, either, so the lord remains silent.

"She messed up, though," Henry goes on, wagging his finger a bit and pacing thoughtfully in front of them. He feels like a detective, he thinks, solving some sort of great mystery. Though it wasn't really so great of a mystery to him; he was able to dissect the residual energy clinging to Cat with no problems whatsoever. "I think she might've replaced one of Cat's hairs with… well, a cat's hair." Another laugh; this time a bit sharper. Come on, he thinks. _That's funny._ Chrom and Cat remain silent, though, so Henry pouts a bit and goes on. "It's an easy mistake, really. Do you have a black cat that hangs out in your tent, Mister Cat?

The tactician hesitates for a moment, but then nods, blandly. There is, indeed, a cat with black and white fur that slips into his tent sometimes. Cat hardly minds; the stray has been travelling with them for a while now, and Cat's always been fond of his fellow felines.

"That's it, then." Henry stops and nods. "That's what happened. She messed up one ingredient and… _poof!" _He gestures with his hands here; an explosion, to illustrate… the growing of extra limbs…? Chrom doesn't have much time to ponder it, as Henry quickly goes on; "Something little like that can really screw up a whole spell, though," he says, and nods a bit more gravely, "So it's kind of hard to figure out how to reverse it."

Cat frowns deeply at this. Chrom furrows his brow as well and steps forward with open palms, because no, no, they didn't come here to hear _that. _"But surely there's _something _you can do…"

Henry glances at him and smiles, brightly. "Ha! Of course there is!" He takes a step forwards to flick Chrom once in the and then dances away, naturally, unconcernedly. The lord blinks and rubs his forehead, taken aback. "I can reverse any spell," Henry goes on, "Even if I don't know exactly how it was cast…" Here, he pauses, and turns towards a trunk against one wall of his tent. "Just… Hold on a second…"

He spends a moment rummaging through the trunk, bent over, Grimleal robes splayed out around him. That's another thing Chrom doesn't want to deal with amongst his men; religion. Perhaps it's wrong, and perhaps it makes him a heretic, but as long as someone's fighting _with _him, rather than against him, Chrom really doesn't care who or what they worship, Grima included. He can't afford to care… and Henry has done nothing to make Chrom take away such a right, however uncomfortable it might make some people.

Cat seems a little too comfortable with it, Chrom thinks blandly, but then, he wears the Eyes of Grima on his sleeves, too; something Chrom tries not to think about, on a good day.

And he tries not to think about it now. Thankfully, Henry pops up from where he's bent over the trunk then, holding a little bottle up triumphantly. "Found it!" he sings, and practically hops back over to them. He holds out the bottle to Cat with a wide grin on his face; a smile that clearly says, '_Take it. I dare you.'_

_Trustworthy, _Chrom thinks. He's done nothing but assist them, after all, and he has no reason to turn against them now. Nonetheless, Cat stares at the bottle as if it's grown a large head. Well, Chrom thinks, at least he is not so blind as he is brave.

Henry straightens a bit and brings his brow together, imploringly. "This will work, I promise," he says, "I made it a year or so back as a cure-all for hexes and charms alike. One sip and you should get better in no time. Well, not… no time; it usually takes about twenty-four hours to kick in, but by tomorrow morning, you should have shed those extra limbs."

Chrom pulls a slight face, hoping he doesn't mean 'shed' in a literal sense. Nonetheless, he leans over and inspects the bottle with interest. The liquid inside is thick and soupy; the color of dried blood, Chrom thinks, or perhaps rust. It hardly looks appetizing. "… What's in it?" he asks eventually, somewhat hesitantly.

Henry grins and sets off on another ramble; "Oh, all sorts of stuff. Nightshade's sister, poppy seeds, dragon spider eggs… You name it. I diluted it all, of course. The poisons should knock each other out, so aside from a bad taste, it shouldn't kill you or anything." Another bright smile. "As long as you don't drink too much. That is, no more than a spoonful, really… I tested it on myself, you see, and I accidentally took too much. By Grima, you wouldn't believe the troubles I had. Quite fascinating, really; I hadn't know that the human body can—"

And that's where Cat cuts in, snatching the bottle quite suddenly from Henry's hand. "Thank you, Henry," he says, "This is exactly what we needed. Now, if you'll excuse us…"

Henry blinks at him, a bit coldly, but keeps that smile on his face. "Hm? Oh sure, sure, Mister Chrom. Just be sure not to give him too much, okay? I know he's used to thick liquids, but we wouldn't want our favorite Kitty Cat choking, now would we?"

There's something there, buried in the words, that Chrom doesn't quite catch. He just frowns again at the 'Kitty Cat' comment, stepping a little possessively towards his lover, whom Henry really isn't supposed to know about, but then, Chrom feels that the mage has his ways of finding out _everything. _Cat, on the other hand, goes through a fantastic spectrum of colors before averting his eyes, hands clenching into fists. Gods… Oh gods, if only he could speak… As it is, he can't, and he won't, won't lash out, no, no…

But _gods, _as useful as Henry is, Cat could never, ever be friends with him. He knows this; is sure of it. Never.

After an awkward moment, Cat nods, curtly—the only method he has to thank the other, and to excuse himself, all at the same time. He feels as if his face is on fire, and he just wants to go, go, go… Glancing at Chrom once, he opens his mouth without thinking about it, letting out a small, demanding _meow. _

_We're leaving, _is what it's meant to come across as. Cat doubts the other can tell, but Chrom catches on nonetheless, now that he has the supposed 'cure' in his hand. It's all… very sketchy, of course, but the same things keep running through the lord's head, over and over; Henry has done nothing but help them… Henry has no reason to betray them…

And gods, Chrom can't imagine what would happen if Cat was to stay this way forever. The extra appendages, they could get used to, but a tactician kind of needs their _voice._

So nodding curtly in return, Chrom glances once more at Henry before turning towards the door. "Alright, then… Thank you, really. We'll… be careful with it."

The dark mage smiles after them, and makes Chrom think of a snake, smug and sure of himself. "Sure, sure. Any time! I like casting curses more, but breaking them's not half bad. Let me know how the potion works out for you, hm?"

Chrom doesn't want to, but he nods, nonetheless. And with that, he turns to catch up with Cat, who's already walking out the door. Neither of them have any desire to look back.

* * *

**Circle of jealousy and dirty jokes that Chrom just doesn't get. What a sheltered little king... **

**... Not really. Not at all. Just clueless and thick as a log.**

**I don't know what's happening here, guys. I hope the fact that I'm totally lost in this arc is at least somehow amusing in its own way?**

**Anyway, thanks so much for reading! I predict two more chapters; one short one with Tharja bitching about stuff, and a longer one with fluff, cuddles, kisses, and possible screwing amongst Cat and Chrom. So, uh... Look forward to it?**

**Please leave a review if you can! Please, please, please!**

***Note: This chapter was wrapped up and posted rather hastily; feel free to point out typos, and I'll fix them when I revisit it tomorrow. Now is time for sleep.**


	22. Night

**Omg guys, look, another chapter. Fourth and possibly last of the 'Neko' arc-I don't know if I'm going to write another Tharja chapter or not, so you'll just have to wait and see.**

**This one is pure fluff and then smut. Fluff and smut and lots of cheesiness. We all know that I'm terrible at writing fluff, and my smut is not much better, but I hope you get a little enjoyment out of this little piece of absurdity, nonetheless.**

**So... Yes. Enjoy!**

***Note: I don't own Fire Emblem. If I did, there would be a good anime adaptation of Rekka no Ken, and I would be drowning in EliwoodNinian feels.**

* * *

Chrom decides to sleep in Cat's tent that night. Normally, the tactician is reluctant and bashful, because really, it's risky to spend so much time together, but for once… for once he's willing; encouraging, even. He doesn't want to be alone like this, after all. He feels vulnerable and off-balance, and having Chrom by his side is more comforting than he can properly express. There's also the fact that he has to take some sort of mystery potion that could very likely cause unpleasant side effects, and that's not exactly something he wants to go through on his own.

It's a bit selfish, he thinks, because it's only now, when he's afraid to be alone that he so willingly lets the other into his tent. It's not that he doesn't love Chrom, and he knows the lord understands, but he feels bad for always pushing him away nonetheless.

Cat takes the potion late in the evening, after the camp has settled down. It was a pain sneaking around all day—trying to carry out their duties while dealing with the oddity at hand—so when night comes, Cat ties the door to his tent closed and they both collapse onto the nest of blankets that makes up his bed. Cat settles with his head resting on Chrom's stomach, curled against the other, while the lord runs his fingers absently through his lover's black hair. They don't do this often—this cuddling thing—and while Cat initially wants to find some menial task to distract himself with, he eventually gives in to the relaxed silence that stretches between them.

It's nice, he thinks, vaguely; Chrom's hand in his hair. In a sort of daze, he looks up and meets warm blue eyes.

"How are you feeling?" Chrom asks him, in a quiet voice. They're both waiting for the drug to kick in, apprehensively, but thankfully, Cat feels fairly normal so far. It hasn't been that long, after all.

The tactician gives a small, contented hum in response. It comes out low and throaty, but Cat is hardly aware of it. He doesn't want to worry about making any weird noises right now, after all, because he's had to be silent all day. The hand stroking his head is one of the most soothing things he's ever experienced, he thinks, and he's content to just lie here and let himself go.

Chrom chuckles, lightly, at the dreamy look on the other's face, and scratches unconsciously behind one of Cat's fluffy ears. It really is just like petting a cat, he thinks—relaxing in its own right—and though they're both a bit nervous about what the morning will bring, Chrom doesn't want to let anything ruin this moment. The tactician hums again, and this time its drawn out, persistent. Chrom smiles widely and raises an eyebrow. "Are you… purring?" he asks, amusedly.

Cat falls silent immediately, blinking, as if he's only just realized that that sound was coming from him. He blushes a bit, automatically, and looks away out of embarrassment. Ah… Geez, he hadn't meant to let himself go _that _much. Perhaps he's too self-conscious, but now that he's aware of it, he fights to stay silent.

Chrom laughs a bit and pats the other's head, shifting so that he's half-sitting against the pile of pillows. "You don't have to stop," he tells the other, eyes half-lidded, "It's cute."

And Cat has never gotten used to being called 'cute'. It's not that he dislikes it; it's just that he feels it's inaccurate for a fully-grown man, thank you very much. His cheeks darken a bit, but he just sits up a bit, bracing himself on one arm so that he's eye-level with the other. He pouts, vaguely and playfully; a clear, _Is not, _look, but leans in towards the other nonetheless. His current predicament is odd and unnerving, but for whatever reason, he's feeling strangely affectionate, and he certainly won't deny that of the one he loves. So he breathes lightly against the top of Chrom's jawline, offering a small _nyao. _

Chrom blinks at first, because Cat's rarely the first to initiate anything, but then smiles and slips both hands around the other's neck. "Very cute," he reiterates, in a lower voice, "Almost too cute to handle." And he chuckles at the glare he receives, enjoying the fact that the other can't quite deny it.

Cat does nip at the skin beneath his ear, though, in a silent but effective form of retaliation. Chrom inhales, because _ow, _that actually hurt a bit, but his pain is forgotten as Cat licks the injury seconds later.

_Oh, _he thinks suddenly. Oh, he's _really _trying to start something now. Well, two can play at whatever game they're playing, and Chrom would like to think that he's really rather good at it. His hands shift a bit lower, automatically, as he turns his head to capture Cat's lips with his own. The kiss is soft at first, but there's nothing reluctant or hesitant about it, and it quickly progresses into something deeper, Chrom running his tongue over the other's lower lip and Cat parting his teeth all too willingly.

It's a distraction, and they both know it, but Cat is so okay with it. He doesn't want to think at the moment, and his body feels oddly heated. There's a certain satisfaction too, he thinks, that comes with being in this mood, because it means they're doing _something _right in their mess of a relationship, and Cat likes to be able to please the other whenever he can.

The tactician shifts to straddle the other after a moment, without really thinking about it. They break the kiss only to breathe, until Cat's feeling a little bit dizzy and has to pull back, hands still tangled in Chrom's short, blue hair. The lord's lips just trail to his jaw, and then down to his throat, brushing the skin lightly before settling in to bruise. Cat gasps, back arching a bit beneath the other's hands, and this makes Chrom blink, coherently, pausing to give the other a long look.

The lord smiles, flushed, and a bit hazy-eyed, and hums as he leans in for a quicker, chaste kiss. Cat blinks at him, and then returns the smile, in that small but comfortable way of his that always leaves Chrom reeling.

"I wish you were always like this," the lord murmurs without thinking, burying his face in the crook of the other's neck.

The tactician stiffens a bit, blinking, and then feels his stomach drop with more than a little guilt. He knows that Chrom didn't mean anything. He knows that the other understands. And yet, he also knows that yes, he's reluctant, and yes, he's guarded, and yes, he always has a hard time of letting the other in, even when they've been together for so long already… It's not that they don't _do things _together—to each other—in the privacy of their own tents, but… Cat suddenly feels as if he could try a little harder. It should not have to take him getting hexed for Chrom to get some, though the thought makes Cat flush right up to his ears.

He's still for a moment, and then lets out a low whine, shifting a bit closer to the other and brushing his lips against his hair. _I know, _he wants to say, and he _wants _to always be like this, he really does…

But all he can promise is that he'll try, so he does that, silently, bringing both hands up to cup his lover's face. He gives the other a long, sincere look, eyes bright, and searching, and hopefully affirming, all at the same time. He wishes he could speak—wants to tell the other just how much he means to him—but then, this is probably one of those times when actions are worth far more than words. Whether or not Chrom receives his message, Cat's not entirely sure, but the other's features soften into something of such warmth and acceptance that it's possible it doesn't even matter.

Their next kiss is longer, and they go at a slower pace. Chrom's hands slowly slide up beneath the other's shirt as Cat mewls, softly, into his mouth. From there, they move far too perfectly together, Chrom straightening until he's able switch their positions, and Cat gazing at him with half-lidded eyes, far from opposed. The tactician's shirt is done away with entirely after a moment, cast to some forgotten corner of the tent, and Chrom bends over the other, hands gliding down across his chest. _His, _he thinks simply, and smiles. His. As his right hand traces the raised scar across the other's abdomen, Cat makes a small sound and tugs persistently at the hem of his shirt.

Chrom pulls back a bit and smiles crookedly at the other, heady, and chuckling breathlessly. "So impatient," he teases, lightly, and receives a flustered growl in response. "Yes, yes…" The lord takes a moment to pull his own shirt over his head. "Better?" he asks.

Cat just gives him a weak sort of _fuck you _look, which is somewhat ironic, and decidedly amusing. Before the tactician can make any further noises, though, Chrom presses their lips together again. He wastes no time in pulling out the other's belt, and then palms him, expertly, so that Cat's hands have to scramble to find holds on the other's bare back. There's the prick of fingernails and a muffled groan, and it's enough to drive Chrom crazy, right then and there. Lowering his lips until teeth rake across a pert nipple, he tugs the other's pants down, quickly.

Cat gasps. Chrom smiles. They kiss again, though it's clumsy, and desperate, and Chrom's far too busy freeing himself of his own pants to even so much as think. Their clothes end up in a messy pile off to one side, and then there's just skin on skin, Cat's fingers digging a bit painfully into Chrom's back. The lord winces, but thinks nothing of it. He looks up at the other, one hand sliding low, over Cat's cock, but then frowns slightly, realizing that they don't have anything to make this any easier. Swallowing, he whispers apologetically into the other's ear; "It'll hurt."

Cat blinks at him, but then just gives a reassuring _mrow. _It's odd, and embarrassing, and he's highly aware of how his tail is curling around his left thigh. He tries not to think about it, though, focusing instead on drawing one of Chrom's hands up and wetting his fingers, pointedly. _Just get on with it, _he wants to say, and Chrom seems to get the message.

The lord goes slow at first, stretching the other and relishing the sounds that each curl of his fingers elicit. His body feels so hot that he can hardly stand it, though, and it's not long before he can't take the pressure anymore; Cat's walls are tight, and slick, and demanding, and as soon as the tactician's taut features soften a bit, Chrom ceases his ministrations and positions himself against the other's entrance. Then it's nothing but a push, Chrom's hands against the other's thighs, skin slick in the half-light of the lantern atop Cat's desk.

It's not the first time Chrom's felt this, but it plunges him into primal pleasure, nonetheless. Cat's breath hitches sharply, and Chrom sees him bite down on his lip, hard. He only processes this dimly, though; he's too busy trying to hold himself back to really think about anything else, too busy trying not to just give in and pound into the other with everything he's got.

At two strokes, he asks if the tactician's okay. Cat can't form words, but the look his gives Chrom and the way rolls slightly into the other's hips ought to be answer enough. They settle into a rhythm that's neither too fast nor too slow, Cat gasping with each of the other's movements, until there's nothing uncomfortable about it and he's simply filled. Completed. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, one hand still clutching Chrom's shoulder as he presses the other instinctively against his lips. The two shiny ears are angled flat against his skull, tense, and quivering, and _fuck, _he just…

"Cat," Chrom manages, huskily, and speeds up a bit, spreading Cat's legs more to come at a better angle. All of the tension that he's built up through the weeks is melting away now, as he gives in and arches over the other, burning, burying. _Gods, _he thinks, and wonders, vaguely, if anything could feel better than this. Still, though, he wants more, and he moves faster, reaching a hand up to gently pry the other's hand away from his mouth. "_Cat."_

Cat fixes him with a flustered, hazy stare, brow drawn into an expression Chrom would die for, voice escaping in a soft mewl across his lover's lips. He gasps, tilting his head to the side slightly, reflexively, but Chrom catches his cheek and forces him into a messy kiss instead; little more than desperate breaths and teeth clacking lightly with teeth.

When Chrom wraps a hand around Cat's shaft and pumps, the tactician can't help but let out a sharp cry. Then it's not long before he's driven over the edge, spine arching as he comes, suddenly, into the other's hand. He bites down without meaning to, nicking Chrom's lower lips with a sharp canine, but neither of them minds the slight copper taste that mingles on their tongues. Chrom rides it out for all it's worth, and then groans, loudly, releasing inside the other with one final thrust, lost in the tight heat of their combined orgasm. They break the kiss in order to breathe, Cat going limp beneath the other as he tries, desperately, to catch his breath.

Chrom is silent for a long moment, forehead pressing against Cat's collarbone, breathing hard as his wits return to him, at least to a certain extent. The air is heavy and expectant, and the room still seems to be moving, though they've gone still. Eventually, Chrom blinks, hazily, pulling out and bracing himself above the other, gaze flickering across the other's face.

He leans in, silently, to press his lips against Cat's temple.

If they could stay like this forever, he thinks, then he would be content. Even if Grima was to rise tomorrow and the world was to fall into ruin… if Chrom was able to stay here with the other and go with him into their own personal little hell, then he really doesn't think that he'd mind. It's selfish, and terrible, but that's what Cat does to him, and sometimes, Chrom thinks, it's not so bad to be true to your emotions, more than your obligations.

There's a balance, he thinks, and wants to find it.

Cat's eyes flutter open to fix blearily on Chrom's own, and all the lord can think about is how beautiful he is, how he wants to ingrain this image into his mind's eye to look back on whenever things go wrong. Of course, his gaze is automatically drawn to the appendages that are so out of place, and Cat's face manages to take on an even darker rose glow, but the lord just smiles and nuzzles softly against the black fur, shifting to lie beside him press their foreheads together. Blue gazes softly into black, and water and ink have never mixed so smoothly.

In the morning, they know, the ears and tail will probably be gone. That doesn't mean anything, though, because they were never so important in the first place.

* * *

**Something deep and profound about how deep and profound their love is.**

**Nah, who am I kidding; this is just silly fanfiction I write for fun.**

**Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed it. This basically concludes the 'Neko' arc, though like I said, I might give you all one more angry Tharja chapter. Just depends what I feel inspired to write.**

**I know my narration is all over the place in this chapter; it started with Cat, but then, he couldn't actually speak, which was difficult, so it sort of just slowly shifted to Chrom... Ah well. Whatever. I could come up with excuses all day, but it's just something I'll have to work on.**

**Anyway, thank you so much for reading this ridiculous fic! It means a lot to me! And I hope all of you people who'd been wanting cute KittyCat/Chrom moments are at least somewhat satisfied.**

**Please leave a review if you can! Reviews are an essential part of an author's diet!**


	23. Gift

**Oh my gods, guys, it's been forever. I'm sorry. I totally lost all drive for this story after that two week absence I mentioned, and it took me a while to get back to writing it. **

**This chapter is pretty crappy-just a little idea I had for some fluff. I apologize. I just wanted to give you guys something, since I love all of my wonderful readers.**

**I will try to get back to not shitty writing after this. Forcing myself to plow through this chapter helped me get back into the characters, and I have a couple ideas... I just don't have a lot of time lately.  
**

**Anyway, without further ado... Enjoy!**

***Note: I don't own Fire Emblem. *single tear***

* * *

When Chrom shoves the box towards him with both hands, Cat is not sure what to do aside from stand there and stare. It's not that he's never received a gift before—though between the two of them, it's true that material goods are of no real importance—it's just that he's not sure what, exactly, the occasion is, and he hopes, desperately, that he's not supposed to have something to give in return.

"… For me?" he asks, somewhat stupidly, and takes the box from the other, black eyes a bit round.

Chrom exhales, and rolls his eyes, a very faint pink staining his cheeks. "No, for the other moody tactician I'm dating," he jests, briefly, and then ruffles his hair in an attempt to calm down, watching the other's reaction. "Yes, it's for you… It's actually a bit late, and I… I really wasn't sure what to get, so I completely understand if you don't like them. I just… They made me think of you, so I went ahead and…" He stops himself there, realizing that he's rambling, and presses his lips together, a bit bashfully. "… Just open it," he says, in a quieter tone.

Cat glances up at him again, the lord's sudden shows of affection making his own face heat up. This… He's not sure if Chrom has ever done something like this for him before—not that Cat expected him to or anything—and he's not entirely sure what to think. "I… You really didn't have to get me anything," he mumbles—though he's still unsure what the occasion is—but unties the little purple bow, nonetheless.

When he opens the gift, there's a slight flash of gold. Cat's lips part, and he goes still as he stares down at the contents of the box in his hands.

Chrom shifts nervously from foot to foot. When the tactician doesn't respond for a moment, he furrows his brow a bit and looks away. "They're… They're kind of gaudy, aren't they?" he asks, in a slightly depressed tone tone, "S-Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking… I'm really terrible at this whole gift-giving thing, but I… I thought I ought to give you _something…" _

Cat isn't listening, though. Very slowly, he picks up one of flat, golden earrings, letting it dangle in front of his face. The design has been altered, he thinks, but it's… it's definitely an eye of Grima. _Where did he find something like this? _he wonders. For a Ylissian to buy a mark of the Fell Dragon… Hasn't Chrom committed an act of heresy, somehow?

"And there was this vendor from Plegia, you see," the lord continues after a moment. "I thought the eye sort of matched those marks you have on your sleeves… Th-Though it was probably pretty silly of me—buying jewelry for a man…" Chrom swallows, still waiting for some sort of reaction. He can't read the look on the other's face, and it's unnerving. "… Cat?"

"Do you know what this is, Chrom?" The tactician doesn't look at him, eyes still fixed on the metal dangling before him.

The lord blinks. _Ah… _"The marking?" He presses his lips together for a moment, thinking. The way Cat asked that… Indeed, Chrom has seen the marks before; often attached to something related to the Fell Dragon, the one they're fighting to defeat… However, that doesn't change the fact that the first time he saw them—the first time he ever laid eyes on one of these 'eyes of Grima'—was when he found the other lying face-down in that field. To Chrom… regardless of their true meaning, he associates these eyes with _Cat. _Not Grima, _Cat._

Still, though, he's suddenly afraid that he's made some sort of mistake.

"… It's Plegian, I know," he says after a moment, carefully, "And… It's actually associated with Grima, isn't it?"

Cat swallows and nods.

Chrom presses forwards; "But that doesn't really matter to me. I mean… I hadn't seen it before I met you…" He pauses and shifts a bit, uncomfortably. "Does it… Does it bother you?" Because if Cat would rather not think of the Dragon, then Chrom doesn't want to say or do anything to bring him up. In truth, he's never really been sure if the other's religious or not; something tells him Cat's not sure what he believes anymore, either.

Cat is silent for a moment, as if contemplating this. Then he looks up at Chrom, eyes softening a bit as he flashes one of those rare smiles. "No, it's… it's fine," he says, stumbling over his words, because really he's not sure how to react; not sure how to express his gratitude. This symbol… Grima or not, Cat feels attached to it. Whether it's good or bad, Cat feels as if it's a part of him that he can't get rid of—the proof is the mark printed on his hand—and for Chrom to accept it so easily… The lord's words echo in his head; _"I hadn't seen it before I met you."_

The tactician swallows and puts the earring back in its box. When he looks up again, cheeks flushed a happy pink, Chrom thinks he might burst from the way his heart swells in his chest. "Thank you, Chrom," Cat says, and then hesitates for a moment before leaning in the slightest bit. They are alone. Most of the soldiers have already gathered in the mess tent. And at the moment, Cat cannot think of anywhere he'd rather be or anyone he'd rather be with. He clutches the box with both hands, knuckles white, until Chrom takes a step forward and meets him halfway.

They take their time with the kiss, which is dangerous, but neither of them can bring themselves to care at the moment. Chrom threads his fingers gently through Cat's hair, and when they pull apart, they just stand there for a while, foreheads pressed together. The silence is comfortable, but Cat breaks it, suddenly, with a confession;

"I am kind of wondering… what the occasion is." And he swallows, feeling guilty for forgetting whatever warranted this.

Chrom just chuckles lightly, though, nuzzling his nose the slightest bit. "I thought you would." He's silent for a moment, blue eyes soft as he gazes down at the box in Cat's hands. Finally, he speaks; "It's been a year."

Cat looks at him, eyes going a bit round. W-What? No… He didn't… He didn't forget their anniversary, did he? _I-It's in two months, isn't it? Isn't it? _

The lord catches the look on his face and laughs again, stroking his hair lightly. "Relax. It's just…" And here he falters, averting his eyes for a moment, bashfully. "It's a bit silly really, but… a year ago, I found you lying in that field. You told me… You told me you don't remember your birthday, so I…" He swallows.

"I thought this was something else worth celebrating."

Once again, Cat doesn't know what to say. All he can do is stare at the other, because there aren't… there aren't _words _that can properly express this, this pulsing feeling that has taken hold of his heart. Chrom… Only Chrom has ever made him feel this way. Only Chrom has ever given him something like this. _Only Chrom, only Chrom… _

Cat is sure that even in the time before, when he was a different person, he's never loved anyone this much.

So he presses his lips together and tucks his face into the lord's neck, and like always, feels those arms wrap around him.

Chrom's birthday is in three weeks, he remembers suddenly, and he's not going to let the other forget it.

* * *

**There you go. I know it's really short, orz, but thanks for reading!**

**I've been so busy lately making an Awakening MyUnit cosplay... but it'll be so worth it. (If any of you are going to Animazement 2013, you'll see me there.)**

**Anyway, I'm kind of rushing to post this during school, so please forgive any mistakes.  
**

**Thanks again!**

**Please review!**


	24. Break

**Uguuh, a mediocre update again. I got a new computer, and all of Stumbling is on my old one... Also moved recently, and all types of stuff has been happening, but ugh, excuses, I'm just sorry for taking forever to update once again.**

**But! I'm not giving up on Stumbling! It's still on my mind! I just can't write anything but crap lately-so sorry, guys. It's summer now, and I have some time, so I will hopefully be able to really get back into this... In the meantime, thank you for your patience!**

**I will probably be posting a lot of random one-shot drabbles before I get into another arc. This one is a bit boring, but it was inspired by those little facts assigned to each of the characters.**

**Chrom is the most likely to break things, ahaha.**

**Without further ado, enjoy.**

***Note: Still don't own Fire Emblem. If I did, there would be an awakening anime already.**

* * *

As Cat sits at the other's bedside, he can't help but be so angry that his fingernails dig into the white skin of his palms. It's not his fault, he knows. It isn't. Chrom has reminded him of this enough times, in that soft, placating way of his. That tone of voice—that gentle, reasonable side of Chrom that contrasts so sharply with his usual blunt attitude—seems to be the only thing that can calm him down at times like this. Cat's not entirely sure if that's a good thing, but he's grateful nonetheless.

Still, he's so _angry. _He's not pacing, or shouting, or seething with dark magic, but it's still taking quite a bit of effort to just sit here, unable to do anything.

If he had been there, he thinks. If only he had been there…

"You're making a scary face again, Cat."

The tactician starts a bit, eyes flickering up to land on the bedridden lord before him. Chrom lies propped up by quite a few of the comfiest down pillows, broken leg suspended by a spindly wood and rope rigging that the healers set up. Aside from his leg, there's just a white bandage wrapped around his head from where his skull cracked against the cobblestones. Cat hates seeing him like this, and only presses his lips together a little whiter in response.

Chrom sighs faintly, smile thin. "You'll get wrinkles if you keep that expression. How many times do I have to tell you that I'm fine?"

Cat twitches, imperceptibly. "No matter how many times you say you are, the fact is that you're _not _fine, Chrom." He gestures vaguely towards the lord's leg. "You can't even walk."

Chrom rolls his eyes a bit. "Okay. I _will be _fine," he concedes. "Really, though, this is nothing. A few more healing sessions and I'll be back on my feet."

That just makes Cat exhale, tiredly, closing his eyes for a moment and massaging his temples. A few more healing sessions is at least a few more days… And as if the fact that Chrom is hurt wasn't enough, that means that they'll be losing time, as well, and Cat can't help but cringe at that, as any tactician should. Time is precious. They have a war to be fighting. Of all the times for Chrom to be injured, and by such a _freak _accident, too…

It's true that it's a well-known fact amongst the Shepherds that Chrom is the most likely to break things. Cat himself knows this better than anyone, considering how many spilled ink bottles and cracked pots he's had to deal with. Still, Cat had hoped that that wouldn't extend to _himself._

He's not angry at Chrom. He reminds himself of this. He's just irritated with the whole situation.

And if he had _been _there, then maybe…

"Cat."

Cat opens his eyes, and his expression softens a bit. The lord's smile has slipped into a vaguely exasperated look, laced with a bit of pain and haziness brought on by the painkillers Maribelle forced on him. Cat can't help but feel a little bit guilty when he sees it, though he's not entirely sure why. It's true, he thinks, that he ought to be more composed about all this. In the end, it's _Chrom _who got hurt, and Cat's sure the king is just as upset about the situation as he is. Plus, being cooped up in bed all day has to be torture for him… Raising a hand to rub guiltily at the back of his neck, Cat exhales and nods.

"I know, I know," he says. "I'm sorry, Chrom, it's just…" Just what? _Just that this shouldn't have happened, that it's such an unexpected setback, and _really, _of all things, to think that you were hurt this badly in a _wagon _accident… _Cat leans a little closer to the other, elbows on his knees, and bows his head. He forces himself to relax a bit and actually lets out a sort of mirthless laugh. "It wasn't Risen or Plegians that nearly killed you; it was a _wagon." _He shakes his head.

Chrom watches him and smiles slightly again, scratching his cheek, a bit bashfully. "It was pretty stupid, huh?" He gives an awkward laugh. "I had no idea how dangerous those things could be."

"Horses can be dangerous," Cat comments offhandedly. "I heard something spooked them?" Here he eyes the other, curious as to how, exactly the agile lord was in such a bad accident. He's still upset with this whole situation, but Cat's starting to feel some of his anger drain away. It was an accident, he thinks. Just an accident. There's nothing they can do about it now…

Chrom just shrugs, though, wincing a bit with the motion. "Who knows?" he dismisses. "I wasn't really paying attention, I'll admit." Granted, why should he have had to? No one expects to be hit by a wagon when they're walking safely out of the road…

"You're lucky you weren't trampled," Cat mutters suddenly, in a softer voice. He gazes at the other, worry finally leaking through instead of his frustration.

The lord blinks at him, catching his tone, and then seems to deflate a little, dropping his head back against the pillows. "Yeah," he answers plainly, and then offers a tired smile. "Only my leg…"

Cat is silent for a long moment, eyeing the other. It's obvious to him that Chrom is still in a considerable amount of pain, because no matter how hard he tries to hide it, Cat has learned to read his expressions. That, he thinks, is probably the biggest reason for his anger… The tactician hates feeling so useless, having to deal with something so far out of his control.

"Should I go get Lissa or somebody?" he asks finally, in a quiet voice. The atmosphere seems to have dropped again. Cat sits up a little straighter in his wooden chair and bites worriedly at his lip.

"No," Chrom says, a little too quickly. His eyes flash towards the other, round. "Gods, no. She'll just scold me for not being careful enough."

"You aren't careful enough," the tactician mutters under his breath. But Chrom is under enough stress, and Cat doesn't want to add to it any more than he already has. So he backs off with a slight sigh, nodding. "Fine," he murmurs. "You just seem to be hurting."

Chrom looks at him a little strangely for a moment. "Well of course it hurts," he mutters eventually, brow furrowing a bit. "But I can handle it." He cracks a weak smirk.

And here, Cat thinks, is the other side of Chrom; the side he is used to, in all of its hard-headed glory. _Masochist, _he thinks dimly, but just snorts faintly and shifts his chair a little closer. Leaning on the edge of the bed, he hums faintly. "Tough guy, huh?" As irritating as his stubbornness can be sometimes, it's so very _like _Chrom, and it reminds Cat of all the reasons why he likes the other so much in the first place.

Chrom blinks a bit as Cat leans closer. He can't move much in response, though, so he just lowers his eyelids a bit, smile coming easier. "Well, I do have a look to keep up," he admits.

Cat chuckles slightly. It's remarkable how relaxed he suddenly is, considering how furious he was only minutes before. _Thanks to Chrom. _"Not in front of me," he tells the other. It's sappy, and Cat averts his eyes for a moment. Well, in front of Chrom, he's decided, this sort of stuff is okay every now and then…

His eyes flicker back to the lord when he feels a hand reach up to cup his cheek, and Cat's lips part a bit, cheeks going a bit pink. Chrom is still gazing at him with half-lidded eyes, but his expression is decidedly more serious than a moment before as he closes more of the distance between them. "No," he says softly, "Probably more than ever in front of you…"

Cat is about to protest to that, brow furrowing in confusion, but the lord's breath is brushing against his lips, and then…

The door opens.

"Sir Chrom! I heard you got run over!"

Cat jerks back so quickly that he just about falls out of his chair. His heart does an uncomfortable leap in his chest as wide, black eyes flicker over to the doorway, and he knows—he just _knows_—that his face is a horrible shade of red. _Gods, gods, did they see—?!_

Chrom also starts with a guilty flush, but a half-second later, they both visibly relax a bit, because the figure standing in the doorway is _Morgan._

Morgan, standing there awkwardly, expression blank as his eyes flicker from Chrom, to Cat, and then back again. There is a moment of unbearable silence, and Cat has a hand over his face because _oh yes, _he _definitely _saw. Still it isn't as bad as it could be… At least they don't have to worry too much about Morgan…

"I can come back later," the boy offers neutrally after a moment, and tries to hide a knowing smirk that finally worms its way onto his face.

Cat can't respond, too busy avoiding both Chrom and Morgan's gaze, because it doesn't matter if Morgan _knows, _he still can't _handle _this… He feels as if he might die from embarrassment, and it doesn't help that his son finds that fact hilarious.

Chrom coughs slightly after a moment and forces some of the blush down. "N-no! No, it's fine…" he says, with a horribly awkward laugh. "Come on in…"

And though the air in the room is considerably lighter than it once was, they all know that it was a close call.

As he attempts to compose himself, Cat wonders how much longer their secrecy can last.

* * *

**I want to try to write more character interactions with the rest of the Shepherds... Not that that really happened here. I just love Morgan and how great he is at making everyone feel awkward.**

**Thanks for reading! And for putting up with my horribly slow updates!**

**Please review if you can! Give prompts if you'd like! I might write them, who knows?**


	25. Steep

**Woah, double update. This is just another craptastic drabble, though. I have to get back into their characters and the flow of this story, but ugh, I'm trying, I really am.**

**This may or may not be the start of an arc. I haven't decided yet.**

***Note: Alas, I don't own Fire Emblem.**

* * *

The night air is cold, and crisp, and biting, hanging over the mountains in an eerie sort of silence as the group makes their way slowly along the narrow, rock road. It is winter, truly, though there's only the lightest layer of snow left on the ground from the flurries the night before. The Shepherds are grateful for this much, at least. Cat chose the mountain path because the plains were far too dangerous—open, and exposed, and riddled, he knew, with enemy Risen—but he'd feared the possibility of a snowstorm hindering their progress. So far, though, they've been lucky.

_Knock on wood, _he thinks blandly, as he rides near the front of the group, eyes and ears alert to their surroundings. He keeps cycling his gaze between the road ahead, the sky, and behind him, the men, checking that everything is in order, watching for any sudden changes. The road is little more than an outcropping of rock on the steep face of a cliff, but it's wide enough for a wagon to travel safely, and that's what matters.

Had they been at full strength, he thinks that he would've taken the plains path, rather than this nerve-wracking natural challenge… As it is, though, their last few skirmishes have been trying, and a number of their men are injured, and they're just not _ready. _They haven't recovered, and if they were attacked right now, Cat isn't sure that they would be able to pull through… They just have to make it through… The mountain paths are a straight shot to their rendezvous point with Flavia's troops.

Cat swallows, glancing up at the graying sky. It's unlikely that the enemy will have traveled this far into the mountains, but he has to keep an eye out for wyverns…

And he notices, grimly, that the clouds are gathering for snow.

_We won't push through if it gets bad. We'll set up shelter and wait it out if we have to… _They have mages who can help shield against harsh weather, after all… They'll be fine.

He keeps telling himself this, over and over, hoping that he made the right decision.

Half an hour later, the snow has started falling. It's slow and lazy, but the flakes are thick, and Cat's sure that it's going to stick. At first, he was enamored with the snowfall, seeing it for the first time only weeks ago, but now it just bothers him. _Hindrance, _he thinks, pulling his hood up and burrowing his nose into his scarf. _This isn't something we can enjoy…_

And _damn, _it's just so _cold…_

He notices Chrom guiding his horse to walk beside his before the lord says anything. Sniffing a bit, Cat gives the lord a long look. How is he fine in nothing but an extra fur cloak?

"You look miserable," Chrom laughs, falling into step beside him.

The tactician just glares at him from under his hood, nose and cheeks flushed a bit. "Aren't you cold?" he demands, in a slightly forlorn voice.

"Me?" Chrom shakes his head. "No, I'm fine. I've always had thick skin." And he makes it sound so easy that Cat pouts a little. Well, _he's _freezing, thank you very much… Chrom leans forward on his horse a bit to get a better look under his hood. "Are you really that cold? I thought Plegians were used to this sort of weather…"

Cat's eyes harden a bit.

Chrom pauses, and there's a moment of awkward silence in which he realizes that he's screwed up. He blinks a bit, throat tightening a bit in discomfort, and looks away. "Ah… That is…"

"I wouldn't know," Cat says suddenly, in a low voice. "I'm not…"

_I'm not Plegian._

That's what he wants to say, anyway, but the words are dead on his tongue. It would be a lie, he knows. A lie… Because he knows now that he _is _Plegian, and he still doesn't know how to deal with that, still doesn't know what it means…

There are a lot of things that he'd rather have stayed ignorant about, but he shoves that thought down in the back of his throat and tries to patch things up. Chrom didn't mean anything. He never means anything when he misspeaks, but _gods, do you even realize how tactless you can be…?_

"I don't remember what it's like," Cat utters finally. It's not much of an alternative, but at least he's not lying anymore. Shifting on his horse a bit, Cat clears his throat. "Anyway, that doesn't matter. Have you read over those plans I gave you, Chrom?"

Chrom blinks a bit, focusing on the other again. He still feels bad for his faux pas, but he swallows a bit and rolls with the change of topic. "Yes, I did. Nothing stood out to me that needed to be changed…" He trails off, gazing forward with a sudden, uncharacteristically thoughtful look. Cat raises an eyebrow at him before he continues; "We're lucky to have you, Cat." He smiles slightly, warmly, and looks back at his tactician.

Cat just stares at him, a bit taken aback. "… I'd say I'm lucky to have all of you," he says eventually, somewhat awkwardly. It's not that he's never been praised before, but he doesn't really get it. It's true that he contributes to the Shepherds however he can, but it can never repay his debt, and really…

"No." Chrom shakes his head. "We're the lucky ones here. Imagine if we had never found you in that field? We would be blundering out way through this war, for sure."

_Now you're just flattering me, _Cat thinks, and averts his eyes. "And if you had never found me, I'd likely have been killed by bandits, or…" _Or worse…_

_Grima, _he thinks, and presses his lips tightly together. No… He doesn't want to think about what might have become of him—what _he _might've _become_—had Chrom not extended a hand to him that day.

Sometimes, he imagines if they had met under different circumstances. Sometimes, he dreams of it; what it would be like to face the other in battle. And he always wakes up in a cold sweat, shuddering at the feeling of blood on his hands, the knowledge that he'll never be able to truly wash it off…

Cat swallows and starts slightly as Chrom continues.

"Still," the lord is saying, "You're important to us." He hesitates for a half-second, and Cat sees his cheeks flush a bit. "To me."

The words settle lightly on the top of Cat's chest, and he stares at the other with lips parted slightly as the world seems to sharpen and focus.

_That's enough, _he thinks. _That's all I need. _

_You don't have to say anything more…_

Feeling a wall crack a bit, something melting away in his heart, Cat turns his head away and tucks his nose back into his scarf. It can't hide the look on his face, but hey, he can try, can't he?

"Thank you," he says, in a muffled voice.

And with Chrom by his side, he suddenly feels a little bit warmer.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**

**Please review if you've got the time.**


	26. Fallen

**Woah, what's this? A triple update? No way... Well, I guess it kind of might make up for my absence lately? Even if they're all mediocre chapters... Shh.**

**Anyway, I'd just been wanting to write this scene. You'll figure out what's happening fairly early on.**

**Even if this part doesn't actually happen in the main plotline, it's still a fantastic source of angst. Guess this is Lucina's timeline here or something; I don't know.**

**Anyway, enjoy.**

***Note: If I owned Fire Emblem, I would also own a lot of Fire Emblem t-shirts, and posters, and every other type of merchandise you can think of. Probably all with Ephraim's face on it... or Chrom's ass; either would work.**

* * *

When Cat sees that dark magic lancing towards the other, he doesn't think. He only moves, heart shuddering in his chest, eyes wide, and desperate, pleading to anyone, all the gods he knows, to _please let me make it in time—_

He doesn't think. Doesn't think things through, doesn't take into account that this magic is _Validar's, _that he shouldn't come in contact with it. He's already been near the other too much, he can already feel his father's aura bearing down on him, hear Grima shouting at him inside his skull, to _give in, submit._

"_Do as you're told, you foolish boy!"_

It doesn't matter now, though. All that matters is that Chrom is about to be hurt, possibly killed—Cat doesn't know, doesn't care; he just _moves._

His hand comes into contact with Chrom's chest, and the lord's eyes widen. Cat's meet them for a moment—only a second really—sees the look of horror, the pleading expression that's telling him, _"Don't," _but he doesn't listen. He just grits his teeth and shoves the other gracelessly out of the way.

Because he won't—he _won't _let Validar take away the one thing he's ever really _wanted, _the person who matters _most…_

"Cat!"

And the next thing he knows, he's on the ground. He can't feel anything, for a moment. There's just an emptiness, a sick sort of darkness, and Cat can't tell if he's alive or dead, can't even remember where he is, what he was doing; _Who…?_

_Who am I?_

He gasps as his senses rush back to him. Then there's the feeling of the cold, hard stone beneath him, a dull, persistent pain that's shooting through his body, spreading like wildfire. His chest feels as if it's filling with something; something dark, and slimy, that wants to slither its way up his throat, and Cat groans, eyes fluttering helplessly. _Think, _he tells himself. _Think. Remember. This is nothing. You're not…_

But he can feel him. He can hear Validar inside his head.

"_Be a good boy, now."_

And the dragon in him rolls over like a dog in front of its master. Validar will never control Grima, but this—this thing inside of Cat—awakens and shifts lazily at his call.

Cat's eyes flutter open as he feels someone slip a hand under his shoulders; wide, and black as ink, and staring at the man holding him without any sort of recognition. _Who…? _He takes in a shaky breath as his body is wracked with pain, hears his father's voice, spitting at him, venomous.

"_Stupid, foolish king. You feel nothing for that cretin."_

Grima growls in response; a low rumbling somewhere below Cat's ribs, and he grimaces, bringing a hand up to clutch desperately at the front of his shirt. His hood has fallen off, and he stares at the man—this man with gentle eyes the color of the sky—struggling to recognize him as the dark magic lances through his body, burrows its way under his skin. _I know you, _he thinks. He wants to say it, too, but his lips won't move; Cat's heart feels as if it's being crushed.

The man says something, but Cat can't hear him. He can only see the smile on his face as he helps him to his feet, one arm securely around his waist to keep him from stumbling. Cat knows that without him, he would fall. Without him…

_I know you…_

"_You don't."_

Cat gasps as his vision flashes red, doubling over slightly. Everything is hurting—his body is rebelling against him, and suddenly, it's impossible to breathe. Grima strains against his bonds, and Cat's breaking. _Stop..._

"_You don't know him."_

_But I…_

"_You don't feel anything for this man."_

He swallows, looking up at the other, expression twisted in pain, and fear, and anguish, and he wants to speak, he wants to tell him to run, because this man isn't an enemy, Cat knows him from somewhere, can feel him in the small, undamaged part of his heart, but he…

The man hesitates, seeing the look on his face. He leans in closer, one arm still secure around Cat's midsection, holding him up while the other comes up to touch the side of his face. Cat gasps at the sensation; his fingertips feel like fire on the skin of his cheek, but Cat wants to lean into it, he wants to be burned _clean._

Finally, he hears the other; "Cat?! What's wrong?"

But it's too late. Cat is aware of everything, but his body won't do as he tells it to. Grima is fully awake, and grinning, and Cat can feel the stretch of his lips, the presence permeating every inch of his very being. He's drowning inside himself. He wants to scream, but he doesn't have a voice any more.

_Stop it._

_Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it—!_

But Validar doesn't listen. He never did.

"_Kill him."_

And the fell dragon complies.

Cat feels the energy gathering in the palm of his hand, the electricity dancing easily across his fingers, but there's nothing he can do to cut it off. There's nothing he can do to dampen it; all he can do is watch, and hear...

He can hear the man's voice; "Hey! Hang o—"

But he's cut off there as Grima's magic pierces his flesh.

For a sickening moment, there is just the crackle of electricity; the slight, slippery noise of the blade pushing easily through to the man's back. Cat can't do anything but stare into those blue eyes as they widen in surprise and pain. What's left of him is in shock, trying to figure out what he's feeling, and why, _why does his heart feel as if it's stopped beating…?_

Then it comes back to him.

_Chrom._

And his world is falling apart. Everything is falling apart, and all he can hear is the other's name; _Chrom, Chrom, Chrom, Chrom, Chrom…_

"Chrom!"

He chokes it out, barely, and the fell dragon snarls in response, threatening to snap his jaws shut around the fragile human heart they hold. Cat doesn't care, though. It doesn't matter anymore, whether he lives or dies. All that matters is the fact that Chrom is staggering away from him, clutching at the blade of lighting still embedded in his gut, and Cat can't do anything to help him, he was the one who…

_I betrayed him. Killed him. Murderer._

"_Ha! Powerless against you, isn't he?"_

Cat shakes his head, pitifully, stumbling towards the other, ignoring the sharp pain that cuts at him, tries to make him stop. _Please, _he thinks. _Please, no…_

"This isn't…" Chrom's voice is thin, and wavering, and cracking. "This isn't your fault."

And the words make Cat choke, eyes burning, because no, no, _this can't be happening…_

It's all his fault. He reaches towards the other, but flinches back at the last moment, and then his body is caught there, wavering, Grima threatening to burst out of his chest, Validar cackling sharply inside his head, and he can't…

"Promise me…" It's all Chrom can do now to stay on his feet. "Promise me you'll get out of here, Cat."

He can feel a tear rolling down his cheek, but he can't so much as even wipe it away.

"You have to live…"

How? He… _I can't. Not without you…_

And then Chrom's eyes are fading, that beautiful, lustrous blue turning into a dull gray, and Cat can't do anything but watch, can't even sob the other's name.

"Please… go…"

The king of Ylisse falls. Validar's laugh echoes inside his head, and Cat can't breathe anymore, can't think, can't _feel. _He's hardly even here anymore; hardly a part of the physical world. As Grima beats him back into submission, all he can feel is the weight bearing down on him, heavier, and heavier, until he breaks. Then he's shattering, falling to the floor in a million pieces of glass.

Without Chrom, he's nothing.

Nobody.

* * *

**I don't know what happened here. It got kinda stream-of-consciousness towards the end there...**

**Well, anyway, hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!**

**Please drop a review if you can.**

***Note: BY THE WAY, GUYS. I'VE STARTED A NEW CHROMxCAT PROJECT. FOR ALL OF YOUR ANGSTY, INKY TACTICIAN NEEDS. Check out 'As The Past Flickers Out' if you'd like. It is more of a cohesive narrative taking place after the game (and all the events of Stumbling). Don't worry though, I'll still be updating with drabbles here every now and then, though my main focus will probably be on Flicker (as I will probably come to refer to it-stupid long titles, I don't know why I picked that one.)**


	27. Grima

**... Okay so I've just sort of been gone forever. But, but, I really am still thinking about my stories (like all the time), and I have every intention to continue them, I've just been very busy orz.**

**Here is a horrible drabble that I wrote after reading a certain Awakening doujin.**

**Yes I live in Nihon now, so I can find Awakening doujin and it makes me ecstatic.**

**Anyway, enjoy.**

***Note: I don't own Fire Emblem, though that kinda makes me wonder who the FE creators ship.**

* * *

In the silvery light of the moon, Cat hardly looks human anymore. This is what Chrom thinks when he finally finds the other near the riverbank, hood down and head tilted backwards, features blank and open, for once, as he gazes up into the sky. Although it's nearly midnight already, Cat is still in his cloak and light armor; there are a few drops of blood decorating his sleeves, speckled over the eyes of Grima that follow Chrom as he walks.

He hasn't changed since the battle. This is the first thing that tips Chrom off; he knows, somewhere in his stomach, that something is wrong, because Cat has always valued cleanliness.

"Cat?" Chrom asks.

The silence is heavy, the cold night air weighing down on them, but Chrom breaks it without a second thought. He has never been one to read the atmosphere, after all. Some might call it tactless, but as Cat's eyes flicker over to the lord, he thinks that that's one of the things he likes about him. Even if the silence is absolute, Chrom will break it. Even if the darkness is comfortable, Chrom will turn on a light. Even if Cat doesn't want to talk to anyone, Chrom will speak…

No silence, no darkness, no solitude, no sitting alone by himself in the mess hall, or hiding in his tent when he's in doubt. No, no matter what Cat wants, Chrom won't leave him alone. It's gotten to the point now where Cat expects it, prepares for it. It's tiring, having Chrom chase after him whenever he starts to slip away, but Cat can't bring himself to hate the man. He can't hate him no matter how hard he tries.

His eyes are flat and hollow as he gives the lord a long, silent look.

"What are you doing all the way out here?"

Chrom walks over and sits down beside him on the grass. This is another thing Cat likes about him; though he is a lord, he cares nothing for dirtying himself. Though Cat values cleanliness, he can't bring himself to care when it's Chrom who's unclean.

The tactician doesn't answer, and Chrom's smile that was supposed to be assuring, comforting, tightens a bit into one of concern.

"It's freezing." It reaches out with one hand to touch the tactician's sleeve. Despite its heavy appearance, Chrom knows that the dark coat of his isn't incredibly warm. Indeed, the fabric is chilly against Chrom's fingertips.

His gaze softens. His palm presses against Cat's upper arm.

The raven doesn't respond, doesn't give him anything more than a blank stare, still as ice, forearms resting tiredly atop his bent knees. It isn't that he isn't reacting to Chrom, though; it isn't that he's gone into any form of shock, or lapsed into any other sort of stress-induced stupor. No, he's simply looking at the other. Cat is watching, and thinking, and trying, trying to figure out why he's here.

Why is he here? Why is he sitting here on some nameless riverbank in a foreign land, with a noble that he had only the slightest chance of ever meeting?

Why is he, vessel of Grima, traveling with this ragtag group of soldiers, commanding an army he was born to oppose?

His eyes narrow just the slightest bit, and he swallows. Cat looks away, hands clasped tight over each other, and tries to ignore the burning pain that's been eating away at his hand for days. He opens his mouth and tries to think of something to say—he really does—but nothing comes to mind. This is Chrom, he thinks. What is he supposed to say?

Chrom already knows him better than he knows himself.

Chrom is the one who defines him, the one who keeps him on his feet.

Chrom is the one who found him that day, not Validar, or Grima, or anyone else who could have answered all of the goddamn questions flying around in his head…

"… Tch." Cat grits his teeth for a moment and drops his head against his knees; he finally moves, breaks. But there is no release; he still feels as if there's something writhing inside of him that wants to be free, something that climbs up from his belly and whispers inside his head, something that wags its tail like a dog whenever it hears his father's name, something that…

Something that's not _him. _

Cat feels sick. Despite the warmth of Chrom at his side, he feels sick and confused, and he just…

He just wants to be alone. He wants to hate the other's company, but he can't.

Chrom doesn't understand this. The lord's brow furrows in worry as he sees the other cave slightly, and his hand slides up from Cat's arm to rest on the back of his neck. "Cat?" he asks again. "Are you okay?"

But the touch doesn't make the tactician do anything but shiver. Cat wants it to be comforting; he wants to relax, and lean into the other, and curl up against that chest, listen to that beating heart. He wants to say something, wants to be okay, and Chrom's arms are just waiting for him, so very tempting. He knows that Chrom wants it, too. He knows how much the other loves him.

But the dragon in his chest rolls over at the contact. It is a dark and foreign feeling that spreads flush through his insides, and Cat has to tense his shoulders and try to distract himself, try to beat back the creature that rises inside him, vying for control.

He's not sure when, exactly, it started, but for days now, he's felt as if he's on the edge of losing it.

He's felt as if he's slipping away at the worst possible moments, and even now, the darkness is flickering at the edges of his vision.

"Chrom," he says, in a thin, slightly strained voice. "You shouldn't be here."

It is a warning, plain and clear. Cat isn't sure how else to get his point across. He doesn't want to look at the other because he doesn't want to risk moving, and just tightens his arms over his legs, buries his face a little more securely into his knees.

Of course, Chrom doesn't get it. Chrom doesn't leave him alone. The lord feels his chest tighten uncomfortably and rubs a gentle circle in the back of the other's neck. "What do you mean, Cat?" he tries to press for an answer, stupid human boy that he is.

Grima wants to laugh, and Cat's lips pull into a smile against his will.

"Chrom," he says again, and this time his voice is a little more level. "I want you to tell me something."

Chrom dips his head slightly, tries to get a look at the other's face, features still drawn tight in worry. Something is wrong, he thinks to himself again. Something is very, very wrong. And yet Cat is talking to him, at least. Cat is asking him for something, and Chrom has never, will never, never wants to deny him what he needs. "Yes?" he prompts, softly.

And Cat finally raises his head, slowly, ink black hair framing it for a moment, darkening it so that Chrom can't see his eyes. Then he's looking up, though, finally meeting the other's gaze, and Chrom goes still, goes breathless, can't think. The night around them goes from cold to icy, and the lord feels like an insect that's been pinned in a glass box, like a mouse that's been cornered by a snake.

He feels like something that's about to be eaten.

Grima smiles, teeth too white beneath flashing yellow eyes.

"You love me, don't you Chrom?" he asks. "More than anyone in the world?"

* * *

**Phew. Okay, so that was drabbly as hell... I do apologize; I feel like my updates have been crappy lately, and indeed, this one was written quickly, as I've been quite busy lately. But, but I do have a second part mostly written, so that cliffhanger will be picked up shortly.  
**

**I actually have a rather long author's note to share, so please bare with me.**

**First of all, the reason for my absence has been the fact that I'm starting college, and I just moved to a new country, and etc etc... I've just been really busy, and I hope you all understand. That aside, though, I have some BIG NEWS.**

**I figured you might be interested to know that I have created a CAT ROLEPLAY BLOG on tumblr. I know that I won't be able to link it here, but the tumblr domain name is catoftheshepherds. I would LOVE to see some of you guys stop by; hopefully this blog will give me even more inspiration for my Cat/Chrom fanfictions. (Not to mention I would agjdsgjnailad cry tears of joy if someone came and RPd my Chrom baby. Or my creepy Henry baby, for that matter.)**

**Although I've never used tumblr before, and I still don't have good pictures of Cat to upload, so the blog's layout is a little bare. I AM going to be active and checking it every day.  
**

**There will undoubtedly be bonus content on the blog from now on (I mean, the whole blog is basically a spinoff of Stumbling). In fact, I'm letting you know now that I might entirely switch over from fanfiction to tumblr some time in the future, depending on how this blog works out.**

**So I don't mean to toot my own horn or advertise or anything, but I really thought some of you lovely readers might be interested.**

**And one last thing; if any of you are capable of drawing, I would agnjaskgas cry more tears of joy if you'd draw like 2-3 pictures of Cat for me for the tumblr. I would credit you of course and, in return, I would give you request fics (either a oneshot per picture or a longer fic for the package). Preferably Awakening-oriented, but I'd write anything from any fandom/pairing that I know (that includes everything from fluff to angst to hardcore smut). So, please PM me if you're willing!**

**And, well, that's about it. Even if you hate tumblr or something, I love you all for the support you give me and I hope you're all having fantastic lives. Writing Stumbling and Flicker really is incredibly rewarding for me; 131 reviews might not be a lot to some fanfiction authors, but I've never had so many people appreciate my work (and let me know it, too).**

**So thank you, loves.**

**- Catsby**

***Note: By the way, I know fanfictiondotnet seems to hate authors' notes, but this post is primarily a chapter, right? So it's fine, right? Please don't get mad at me, ububu, I didn't know how else to get the word out to my readers here.**


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